#i want them to stumble into something caring and increasingly healthy despite everything

[fuumiku]

What if we were both kids who had become entangled in dangerous things beyond our understanding, and you just want to be loved and take great care in upholding a cute persona to be liked, and I just want to be loved and uphold a persona to seek it through shallow relationships and being desired, and while you were protected and became a protector I was harmed and became harmful. What if we both need to be needed. What if we both craved attention and were overly willing to give it. What if we’re both sidelined and dismissed and whereas I came to loathe the world and want it reduced to ashes you see beauty in it everywhere, what if you brought me understanding and elation, an actual connection that I hadn’t had since my life became a cycle of pain and trauma and acting. What if I said I hated butterflies because they act all pretty and fancy but without their wings they’re actually really ugly, and you told me that they had to live as ugly caterpillars before earning their pretty wings. What if I was a caterpillar and you were a butterfly and I love you but I hate you but I love you but I hate how you might leave me. What then.

"When I’m with you I feel like a kid again." Alois just stab me, it’ll be less painful than hearing you say this to Lizzie

At first in my drafts I had these lyrics of Someone to Stay written all around them but if you’re not in an intense aloizzy mindset it looks crazyyyyy lol. I still made it an alt version and put it under the keep going line though. Also I made them wear each other’s eye color hehe, blue and green <3 Oh yeah man the sketch for this was from yearssss ago and the lineart it’s gotta have been a solid year as well… Look I just have tons of wips and I’m a slow artist. But yesss this is one of my guilty pleasure OTPs… Even as a kid I was a rarepair shipper gbdgdg. So uh this is my obligatory aloizzy post!! There will be more, hopefully

Fic recommendation!! Ice into intimidation is visceral and childish and timeless and universal. It touched me as a 11 years old and my appreciation for it has only grown as I became less and less childishly innocent like Lizzy and more acquainted with the horrors of the world that Alois has lived and seen. THIS FIC Y’ALL. CHANGED MY NEURONS. It’s like bruised ribs, an all-encompassing hug that softly hurts. It probably influenced my tastes in ships and fiction a lot gdbgdgd. I will never recover from it being discontinued, I will forever dream and wonder about what could have been. They’re so tragic. I’m gonna draw so much fanart of this fic when i can. Like just for his post I took the opportunity to go back and read the "butterflies are ugly" scene and the last chapter and many more excerpts and it makes me go rabid it makes me on the verge of tearssss, I could make a whole essay about this fanfic… Though! CW for ptsd, but otherwise it’s all very implied and not told. If you’ve seen the season and Alois’ character you know you have to prepare for actual dark shit. The fanfic isn’t graphic at all as I said, but if you know Alois’ backstory you know. As mentioned I did read this as a 11 years old and the dark stuff flew over my head it’s chill 👍

My aloizzy playlist!! I have a longer one but it’s 16+ because of aforementioned dark themes and I don’t wanna post it here. If you’re curious about some of my other playlist picks though, I recommend Appetite of a People Pleaser & Hansel by Soddiken

For better or for worse i don’t know But for what it’s worth I made you my whole world

— October passed me by, by Girl in red

[ssscentral]

One More Time

Summary: Your touch was addictive, your scent intoxicating. He wants that back so badly, but he needs another chance. Just one more time.

pairing: Seokjin x female reader

rating: GA

genre: angst, mild fluff

warnings: pining, heartbreak, only mentions of sex, but everything very sfw

wc: 3k

member: Rid || @taegularities​

a/n: Hello! Back with the second fic in the Bouquet Collab series. Each one of us chose a flower and wrote a fanfic around the meaning of it! These were just 2 out of 6, so please look forward to many more awesome stories! I also want to thank my amazing betas @biaswreckme and @missgeniality, and further @birbdae for this wonderful banner!!!! 💕 And now let’s dive into the angst!

A single ray of sunshine illuminates the room.

Conveniently, it shines directly onto that one particular plant that stands in this whole apartment, still healthy and green as it refuses to die. Seokjin is fond of it, given the fact that it was you who had gifted him it many weeks ago.

You always used to say that his place is gloomy, grey, in urgent need of redecoration, so he could actually invite someone over and make them feel somewhat homely. After he’d declined all your offers due to laziness, you’d given up - except for the little present that you’d brought him that one significant day.

He remembers it so vividly, the memory still so painfully clear.

At that time, spring was just approaching, birds returning and beautiful flowers blooming. You were a sucker for nature and all its aspects - which was probably the exact reason for the distaste that you felt whenever you entered your friend’s apartment. His way of handling his place was dull, tasteless.

So, when you decided to surprise him with the odd choice of giving him an aloe plant as decoration and present, you weren’t expecting more than a pleasant evening that you’d spend together.

What you didn’t know was that he’d been a nervous wreck for days now, ripping out several strands of his hair before he’d finally decided to tell you the truth about what he caged in his mind. But when he saw you that day, wearing this beautiful sunflower dress, your hair in a bun with only two strands framing your angelic face, words failed him immediately.

Instead, he froze, eyebrows furrowing in fear of what you’d say or do if he confessed to you. And it didn’t take a lot from your side, no - one brush of your finger along his arm, an intense and loving gaze addressing only him, and a beautiful, mesmerizing smile were enough for him to snap before he pulled you in.

When you first felt his full lips on yours, you stared at the way his eyes closed, relishing in and welcoming the moment right away. You needed a second to comprehend what was happening, but once you understood, you felt yourself give in fast, the world becoming blurred and silent.

All you heard were the sweet words he uttered, all you saw was his glistening skin, and all you knew was that you wanted to bathe in this euphoria forever without ever having to let go.

But when you both found yourselves in each other’s arms, covered by nothing but his blanket, you still hadn’t addressed why this had happened and what it meant for you now.

Seokjin didn’t regret this - how could he, if it was with you? But the same old insecurity that plagued his heart and made his chest burn had eventually come back now. Despite having no real evidence or reason, he assumed that you didn’t want what he wanted - you’d never see him as more than a friend that you’d slept with in the heat of the moment.

In that sense, you’d woken up to a pressing awkwardness, him offering breakfast and coffee, but portraying distant nonchalance otherwise. And when you felt like none of this was going to go anywhere, you told him you had to go, finding some kind of excuse to leave.

Since then, an uncomfortable radio silence had found its way between you, and the only thing he had these days to remember you was the pink-orange flower that slowly bloomed on top of his desk.

Lying across the bed, Seokjin opens his eyes with a smile on his face, remembering how he’d looked at you in confusion when he’d first seen you standing at the threshold of his entry, smiling wide with Ally in your hands. Yes, you’d named the plant Ally - always one to give non-living things names.

Wrong.

Ally is very much alive. You’d made that clear that day. Plants take in carbon dioxide and release oxygen - yes, that’s what you’d lectured him with when he’d joked around. His apartment needs some freshness, you’d told him.

Now that he’s inhaling the air around him, it almost feels like he can smell Ally, which is total nonsense of course. He has honestly grown to love this small, spiky thing, especially after finding out the meaning behind it.

Affection.

Something he has felt for a long time now. Affection for the way you scrunch up your nose when you’re annoyed. Affection for the concentrated gaze you adopt when you’re reading a good book. Affection for your words, for the sound of your voice; he loves the sweet, honey-coated, soft tone that he swims in every time you speak.

Seokjin gets up, stretching his limbs and getting dressed when he looks at the clock, noticing that it’s time to go. There’s this boring gathering this evening, organized by some of your colleagues who thought it might be a good idea to come together and strengthen your bond as a student body or whatever.

The only reason he’s going is because he knows you’ll be there. He doesn’t care about getting himself drunk or talking about philosophical theories today - all he wants is to make right what he ruined back then. He just needs to tell you what words float inside his heart, hoping for you to reciprocate his feelings the way you’d responded to his kiss that night.

Gathering all this ardor for you, with only your name on his tongue, he closes his door behind him, summoning all the energy his body can deliver.

You’re easy to find in the small crowd. The room isn’t too filled, the atmosphere peaceful and pleasant when he steps in, running his hand through his soft, brown hair when he sees you. Breathing in and out in a steady rhythm, he approaches you, trying to mask his eagerness, hands pocketed to exude a relaxed demeanor.

When you finally notice the tall figure come closer, recognizing him as none other than the man you’re so in love with, your heart beats just a little faster and you tilt your head in wonder. After barely sparing you a glance in your classes, he has apparently finally decided to give you some attention.

Memories come crashing back; images of your last encounter flooding your mind as you press your tinted lips together, still feeling the phantom touch of his mouth on yours. He still looks the same, but his hair has gotten a little longer, almost covering his eyes entirely before he brushes the bangs away.

“Hey,” he greets, breathing in deep as he sits down in front of you, “long time no talk.”

You nearly counter with a sarcastic remark, but then contain yourself, only shooting him a breathtaking smile. “You’re right. Busy lives. How have you been doing, Jin?”

“Good!” he answers way too fast, clearing his voice before he continues. “I’m doing good. And you?”

“All good. Been writing some more lately.”

Seokjin nods as his eyes widen and his mouth forms an ‘O’, glad to hear that you’ve picked up your hobby of creating beautiful poetry again. He’s even read some of your poems, and you’re truly talented, working around words so easily as if they were his own heart.

“Oh, wow! I- um… I took care of Ally. Do you remember her?” he stumbles over his words, ears growing increasingly red. He’s such a dork and you can’t help but smile a little.

“That’s nice to hear. I bought one of these myself a few days ago. Reminded me of you.”

“That’s great! T-that’s…” What is he trying to say? There must be something that he had prepared, but for the life of his, he can’t remember anymore. All he knows at the sight of you is that he wants to grab you by your waist again, pull you in to press you against him. He wants to feel your lips, move against them in soft, then needy motions.

He just wants you as a whole, if not forever, then once.

Just one more time.

And when he sees you wait for him to speak, fumbling with your fingers with your eyes far away from his, he whispers the word “courage” to himself once before his hand reaches out to grab yours and settle on your palm.

Your gaze shifts to him immediately, his abrupt action causing confusion in you as your heart rate spikes up. But when you see the expression on his face, you feel like you know.

“Y/N, I- we… we need to talk,” he finally declares, his thumb gently ghosting over the skin of your hand, such a simple gesture sending shivers down your spine.

Yes, he doesn’t have to say much. You know what he wants to talk about; after all, there aren’t that many possibilities of what he could want at your first encounter after being somewhat estranged all this time.

“I’m not sure I want-”

“No, please,” he interrupts, squeezing your hand tighter in his. A few weeks ago, his warmth would’ve felt like a safe haven for you, pulling you out from the dark grounds of an ocean if it needed to - but right now, you feel like you’re drowning, like you’re sinking instead of swimming up. “There’s so much I’ve been wanting to tell you and there were so little opportunities to do so.”

Half-fearing, half-anticipating what he’s going to say, you search for the walls you’ve managed to pull up, accepting that Seokjin will never want you in that way. You think you’ve moved on, but now that he’s so close, on the brink of either confessing or rejecting you, you feel tense - and both options aren’t ideal for you right now.

You wait until he’s ready to talk, watch his chest rise and then fall, his eyes meeting yours, but looking like they’d rather not before-

“I’m in love with you,” he finally breathes - and as he mutters his last word, the air around you becomes suffocating, the sounds muffled and his touch heavy.

Is that better than being rejected? You don’t know. You really do not know; and the shake of your head and furrow of your eyebrows show him that something is plaguing you that he might not want to hear.

“Y/N.” His tone is calm, steady, different from your hazardous heart that’s breaking right in front of him, and he doesn’t even see it.

“Why did you not tell me that back then, Jin?” you inquire, pulling your hand away and settling it on your lap. “We slept together. Why did you let me go?”

This… this is awkward. It’s ridiculous. Seokjin shouldn’t have decided to talk about this in a crowd, surrounded by people who know nothing about what’s going on between you two. But now that he did, his heart sinks, his mind in a painful fog, and he puffs out some air, calming himself.

“Let’s leave,” he suddenly suggests, and you think you can see the faintest glint of panic in his dark eyes, “clear it out somewhere else. At my place?”

Again, you shake your head, chuckling lightly but not decently. “I can’t. I’m sorry, I can’t. There’s someone…”

Jin is quick to cut you once again, his breathing suddenly erratic. He’s been in love with you for years - no, he can’t take the thought of you having a boyfriend now, choosing someone over him. “Someone else? This fast? Y/N, why did I never-”

He stops mid-sentence, and it happens just timely as you were going to hold out a hand to silence him anyway.

“Jin. Listen,” you start, leaning in closer, “there’s someone who offered to guide me through a scholarship. Not here - in a different city. And as much as I’ve always wanted you, I can’t do long-distance relationships.”

Your words ease the pain inside him, his mind suddenly relaxing as he takes in your confession. You want him. You’ve always wanted him. Is all of this real?

“Where- where are you going?”

“It’s too far away. I wouldn’t see you more than a handful of times a year. I can’t do this,” you admit, your eyes stinging as you swallow the lump in your throat.

You see him tilt his head with a sigh, and you’re on the verge of breaking when you see his mouth twitch, that familiar movement that mostly means despair. This always happens when his grades are worse than he expects. It happens when he talks to his little brother who lives miles away. Mostly, you see it when you watch - or used to watch - movies together, especially Pixar and Ghibli ones tearing him up in no time.

And now, it’s happening because of you.

“Is there no way for you to stay?”

You bite your lip, chewing on it until you taste your lipstick. “I don’t think so. And it’s… a big chance for me.”

Seokjin’s jaw clenches and he nods, relief turning into sorrow as his expression shows understanding on the surface while his blood is boiling with pain on the inside. He’s angry with himself - he truly is. But he’s also sad about the fact that you never approached him.

And while waiting for the other in silence, phones in your hands, but the courage to message each other so far away, you missed it. You both missed it and he hates it.

“Then I hope you’ll get everything you want, Y/N,” he finally says, standing up as he grabs his thin jacket. It’s probably not that fresh outside yet, he can carry it - maybe hide his fumbling hands that clearly show his nervosity and distaste to this whole situation.

All he can think of is to get away before he breaks.

Yet, he comes closer to you, hovering above you before he leans down. Not caring about your surroundings, only seeing you, his heart only beating for you, he presses his lips onto your forehead first, wanders to your nose, both your cheeks and your earlobes as he says in between each kiss, “whenever… you decide… to come back… I’ll be here…”

Then, he cups your face, looking at your beautiful, full lips, missing how they feel on his before he kisses you gently. His mouth moves delicately, sweetly against yours, bittersweet memories and feelings streaming back as you internally forbid yourself to cry.

“Waiting for you,” he finally whispers, lips brushing yours, and every fiber in you tries hard to hold back. To not pull him into another room, kiss him more fiercely and bring back the fervent heat that you’d indulged in the last time.

His thumb brushes your cheeks softly, his eyes registering you gulping hard as he says his goodbyes, so he can leave. There’s just no way he can stay here any longer. “Don’t cry. I’ll be here, sweetheart.”

And then, his warmth is gone.

Fighting the urge to follow him, you watch him walk away, mind going crazy as you see him face the ground. You can’t falter. You need to focus on your studies before anything else - you don’t want to regret your choices; and if what he says holds true, you might just be able to wrap him into you forever when you come back in a year or two.

Maybe it’s not over yet.

The sun has set by the time Seokjin arrives home. All the sunshine from today morning has vanished, warming someone else, somewhere else now, leaving him in the dark as he lets himself fall on his bed.

An absolute disaster, all of this. And what an idiot he is. Why did he not insist on inviting you over? Ask you if there was any way you’d spend this one last night with him? The lingering feelings of your soft lips strengthen his despair tenfold, and he hates himself for not fighting for a night or a day with you. After all, you’re not going away just yet.

But deep down he knows why he did what he did: being together again would just hurt you both further, the small flame that both of your pain is becoming a searing wildfire. At least he knows for sure that this is what would happen to him. He knows it’d be near impossible to let you go if he woke up beside you.

What if Seokjin searches for scholarships, too? Your grades are similar - if you can get one, why not him? The picture of having you around, falling asleep next to you, studying together and bantering over food and movies - it’s so intriguing that he knows what he’ll search up tomorrow. 

Then again, you have your people; he doesn’t know anyone who can guide him through this, give him a fast opportunity to study somewhere else, be near you.

He doesn’t know. Not how to get you back, not how to feel you again; his brain comes up with nothing helpful, no plan he can actually execute successfully.

Slipping out of his pants, he lingers at the corner of the bed, his arms leaning on his thighs as his fingers tangle between them. Seokjin shakes his head as he physically feels his heart break, each broken piece fighting the other and torturing him, no matter how much he tells them to calm down.

And despite not knowing what to do, what to feel, how to erase the image of you and your face from his mind for the time being, he remembers something else.

When he’d looked for the meaning of the aloe plant, he had found many sources, some beautiful descriptions, and some poetic definitions that connected it to an emotional feeling. While the flower holds the meaning of affection, the memory of another word comes flooding in, ironic to the fact that aloe is supposed to heal, used to mend injuries and pain.

And thinking of this particular word, all he does know at this agonizing moment is that he identifies with your plant’s meaning.

He knows that all he feels is grief.

If you enjoyed the fic, consider liking, reblogging or sending an ask! We love to hear from you! 💕

[bubblegumbeech]

Stumbling in your Sleep

Phic Phight prompt fill for @the-only-wife

It was the ticking sound that woke him.

Danny yawned, blinking sleep out of his eyes and stretching out his sore muscles. Looking around only served to confuse him though. He wasn’t in his room anymore, and he wasn’t downstairs either (which sometimes happened with his body’s penchant to fall through not only his bed, but the floor). He was in a large, heavily shadowed room that was on the edge of familiar, and it was taking him a moment to place it in his sleep fogged mind.

“It’s not healthy to fixate on what could have been,” came a deep, familiar voice from behind him.

Startled, Danny spun around to see Clockwork floating a few feet away. He was in his eldest form, long knitted beard and all, and was gazing past Danny towards something further in the room.

Following that gaze, Danny saw what exactly Clockwork had been talking about and flinched, flying quickly away from it and over towards the Ancient.  

It was a Thermos, horridly familiar and just- sitting there on a pillow as if for display.

“How did I get here?” Danny asked, putting Clockwork between himself and that thing .

Clockwork hummed, stroking his beard a moment before slowly answering, “I suppose, the likely answer is that you were having a nightmare.” He lowered a hand to Danny’s shoulder and led him out of the room and back into a more familiar part of the clock tower. “Let’s get you some tea before I send you home, it might calm your nerves.”

Danny followed, eager for distance, before asking, “the likely answer? Does that mean you don’t know?”

“Despite what you and certain others seem to think, I am neither omniscient nor a mind reader, I cannot see into your dreams,” Clockwork said and Danny chuckled softly. “Besides, Nocturn would likely be unappreciative if I was interfering in his domain.”

“You know Nocturn?” Danny asked stopping and tugging lightly on Clockwork’s cloak so that he’d stop as well.

He did, lifting one of his eyebrows and answering with a dry tone, “of course I do, I know everyone.”

Because of course he did. It wasn’t like he didn’t just tell Danny that he wasn’t omniscient, that was clearly a different skill set to someone as determined to be mysterious as Clockwork. Danny found himself wondering if the intrigue surrounding the older ghost was not mostly of his own creation, an attempt at seeming aloof and beyond comprehension while simultaneously laughing behind everyone else’s backs.

A wash of amusement filtered through the ambient ectoplasm of Clockwork’s lair and Danny scowled up at him, “I thought you weren’t a mind reader?”

Clockwork tried to hide his smile, unsuccessfully, and nodded, “I do not need to be, to hear the accusations you make towards me,” he guided Danny to the main room of the tower where the screens were kept along with the relatively recent addition of a couch and coffee table. There was warm tea, purple and slightly glowing, already waiting for them.

“So I’m right then? You are just messing with us all the time?” Danny grabbed his own cup, dubious, Clockwork wouldn’t poison him right? He would know whether a half ghost could drink something if anyone did.

If Danny was expecting an answer, he’d be dissapointed, but when a ghost spent enough time with the mysterious Ancient it became increasingly clear that straight answers were not something they would get  in large supply. So instead he rolled his eyes and took a sip of his tea, Clockwork could be as obnoxious as he wanted after saving Danny’s family like he did.

The least Danny could do in return, was accept his eccentricities.

“Do you remember your dream?” Clockwork asked and Danny shook his head. There were bits and pieces, sure. Certain emotions and feelings that flashed to the surface when he closed his eyes or tried to think about it. He’d never been good at trying to recall something once he was awake, and despite Jazz once offering to buy him a dream journal to ‘help him decode his inner turmoils’ he’d never felt the need to try and change that.

He sighed into his tea, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I know you’re busy.” There was no way he was going to get a decent amount of sleep now, especially since he’d have to fly all the way home first and he didn’t even know how late it already was.

Clockwork’s lips twitched slightly upwards, “Daniel you’ve never once cared before how busy I am when you’ve come to visit,” Danny flinched, well he wasn’t wrong , “and besides, I quite enjoy your company. It’s no trouble at all.”

“Ah,” Danny didn’t know how to react to that, he was pretty sure he was nothing but trouble, especially with a certain future of his locked up in that other part of the clock tower they’d been in, “thanks?”

His host sighed, taking the time to sip his own eerily glowing tea. The silence stretched, but not uncomfortably and Danny found himself starting to drift towards sleep again, the struggle to try and keep his eyes pried open quickly becoming a losing one.

That was probably his cue to leave, as nice as it was to just sit here and not worry about things like classes and ghost attacks, he was probably already pushing it close to the first bell at school. He stood up and Clockwork’s eyes followed, “I have to head out, thanks for the tea Clockwork. I’ll try to be more considerate the next time I drop by.”

There was a small pinch between Clockwork’s brows, something he wasn’t saying or that Danny wasn’t hearing. “I’d rather you didn’t,” he assured and Danny let out a chuckle. He’d probably respond with something equally sarcastic, if not quite as dry, if he wasn’t so tired.

Clockwork seemed to be of the same mind, “Daniel, when was the last time you slept through the night?” He asked it as a question, as if he didn’t already know. Then again, maybe Danny was giving himself too much credit, it was entirely possible Clockwork didn’t waste his incredible power watching to see if Danny bothered to sleep at night.

“Yesterday,” Danny lied, a yawn built behind his jaw as if to discredit him but Danny held it back stubbornly. It didn’t seem to work though, as Clockwork’s lips tightened. He looked over at his screens, eyes flicking quickly over each one while his fingers tapped a steady rhythm against his staff. That, combined with the gentle ticking of clocks and general comforting atmosphere of the other ghost’s lair was making it more and more difficult for Danny to keep his eyes open.

He flinched awake fully as a hand shook his shoulder, shit, did he fall asleep standing up?  

“Daniel,” Clockwork’s hand was still on his shoulder, practically holding him up at this point, “you can always sleep here.”

Danny shook his head, “I don’t have time-”

“Daniel,” Clockwork interrupted, his expression flat.

Oh right.

“I don’t want to…” he tried, “It’s just, you already help me all the time, you’ve fixed so many of my stupid mistakes and-” and Danny was tired of being a burden. He was tired in general, but ancients was he tired of that specifically.

He was tired of seeing his friends lose sleep to help him as back up, he was tired of constantly having to go behind his parents backs and lie to their faces he was tired of watching as Jazz’s once perfect grades started slipping just enough because of all the time she spent helping Danny with his and he was especially tired of knowing that he wasn’t worth the effort in the first place.

Not if he could turn into that .

But Clockwork didn’t let go of his shoulder, in fact, he pulled him closer into a hug, a real, full hug like the ones he used to get from his parents before they started wearing their weapons and he was scared to get near them. “I’d rather you slept here than wandered around the realms half asleep. Who knows where you’d end up,” he said, speaking gently into Danny’s hair.

“You would,” Danny said before losing the battle against another yawn and relaxing fully into Clockwork’s arms. “You know everything. Can I really sleep here?”

“Of course,” Clockwork released him, leaving one hand on Danny’s back to guide him to a staircase he hadn’t ever noticed before. Just how big was this clock tower anyways?

The room Clockwork took him to was a little bigger than the one he had at home and nothing like what Danny had expected. Most of the tower was colored with dark purples and muted greens, with the occasional brush of silver or brass from the multitude of gears and cogs that littered the floors and walls. This room however, was full of dark blues and greys, a swirling galaxy floating above a single full sized bed that Danny easily sunk into when Clockwork led him to it.

He blinked up at the stars, they were perfectly accurate to the night sky above Amity Park if it didn’t have the light pollution and had to stop himself from counting every constellation rendered there in perfect detail or he’d fall asleep just like that without even bothering to thank Clockwork for offering to stop time for him.

“You made me a room.” It should have been obvious, of course, but Danny hadn’t fully processed what the room and it’s decorations meant until he’d said it out loud and Clockwork didn’t even try to deny it.

Clockwork fazed the blankets through Danny in order to pull them over him properly, tucking him in. Danny was almost tempted to ask for a bedtime story, just to see how he’d react. “Yes, I made you a room.”

Danny frowned, he didn’t understand, “why?”

“I suppose it’s a bit of an excuse to have you visit more often,” Clockwork said, ruffling his hair before sitting at the foot of the bed, “and an offer for you to get some proper sleep before you sleepwalk into someone else’s lair and I have to fight for custody.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Danny mumbled into the pillow, his eyes drifting shut.

The last thing he heard before he drifted off was a soft chuckle and a gentle reassurance that he needn’t worry about anything like that just yet. Maybe, if someone like Clockwork could see the absolute worst of Danny, the monster he could become, and still care enough to make him a room and be sure he slept, then maybe Danny couldn’t be as terrible a burden as he thought. Surely Clockwork, who could see all the futures stretched out below him like a parade, wouldn’t waste his efforts if he didn’t think Danny was worth the time.

He dreamed of stars and ticking clocks and didn’t worry for once about how soon he’d have to wake up.

[oumaheroes]

WIP Extract- Breathe

This comes from my fic Reset, which is long and large and something that is most certainly impossible to read in a day.

The fic itself mainly focuses on England and France with FrUK as the relationship, but I enjoyed writing this interaction between Scotland and England and wanted to share. Context wise, England has been shot in the shoulder and has got himself into a bit of a political pickle- Scotland was called in to help dig him out of the very self-inflicted hole.

-----------

Scotland did most of the talking. England was far too tired to argue or to properly conceptualise any next steps that were needed and the only emotion he found distinguishable from bone aching tiredness was deep gratitude. Now that everything was being handled by someone else, and someone else who England trusted to be competent, there was no panic or worry to keep him alert and he was finding it increasingly difficult to stay conscious, let alone remain focused on conversations enough to be able to provide intelligent input.

France was very much the same. He hadn't spoken much more since the motorhome, not even when North had laughed at him for his ridiculously baggy stolen clothes. The location of France's own things was a mystery- perhaps they had been abandoned at the care home or chucked out of the window as they'd driven here- who knew. Technically they were England's clothes anyway, so France wasn't too bothered.

The most France had done was rummage through Scotland's luggage before they set off and triumphantly pull one of Wales’ jumpers out from his suitcase to take for his own.

'If I ever insult the lovely Wales' fashion choices again, please remind me of this moment.'

It was a horribly garish thing, mottled with splashes of bright red and blue. It was entirely the sort of thing Scotland would also eye up and steal. Terrible looking though they may be, Wales' jumpers were, somehow, always the most comfortable and he was frequently annoyed with his siblings for taking them if he left them anywhere for too long, which he often did.

'We all know that as soon as you get back to your own clothes you will conveniently forget this conversation.'

France ignored England in favour of pulling the jumper over his head and giving a long sigh of contentment.

'Go on, hurry up,' Scotland pushed past him to the driver's door, causing him to stumble forwards, 'chuck England something to cover the blood and get in the car already. I'm leaving with or without you in five minutes.'

Although they now had the backing of the embassy to explain any erratic and untoward behaviour concerning the general public, England did look particularly horrific and it probably wouldn't end well if they waltzed in looking as they did. There was a high chance someone would panic and phone an ambulance which was the last thing anyone wanted- hospitals were always risky for their kind and drawing more attention to themselves at the moment wouldn't be wise.

Because of this, England before too long thankfully found himself in a hotel lobby wearing an extremely large green monstrosity he was most certainly not going to give back later.

Someone, probably not Scotland because the place was far too comfortable looking and Scotland was always the most careful (England preferred the word stingy) with money out of all of them, had arranged a hotel for them in Le Mans. It wasn't anywhere too extravagant or fancy but it was a bed each and that was honestly all England wanted right now. It wasn’t even that late in the evening but all he could think about was going to sleep somewhere and being left very much alone.

Sadly, he wasn't given that luxury. As soon as they'd checked in and avoided the suspicious eyes of the hotel staff, Scotland had bullied him into his room and through to the bathroom. He'd requested that the embassy bring additional medical supplies when they arrived for their nations to use and whilst England was pulling off the top most layers of clothing he unpacked them on his bed, picking out what he thought they'd need.

'It's not too bad,' England called out to him from the bathroom, giving up on his top completely and cackhandedly cutting his way free with a pair of medical scissors. In the room next door, he could hear the sound of a shower turning on- France must have jumped straight in, 'it'll be fine with a wash.'

Scotland returned with some bandages and antiseptic solution and placed them down on the counter, 'Sure.'

'Honestly.'

'Okay.'

'There's no point fussing, I can do it myself.'

England made a grab for the antiseptic but Scotland moved it back and away, out of easy reach, 'Christ, would you stop?'

'Just give it here, you go check on France or North.'

'No, England sit.'

There was a wooden chair in the bathroom and Scotland pulled it over and tried to push England into it. Too tired to properly fight him England sat, but reached over to the counter to grab for the gauze.

Scotland slapped his hand away and stood in front of them, blocking him.

'Scotland. Let me-'

'Bollocks to that, look,'

Scotland crouched down in front of him and England bristled immediately at the offense, 'Don't treat me like a child.' He wasn’t dying.

'I'm not, just,' Scotland made an exasperated noise, 'calm the fuck down.'

'I am calm, you are what is currently stressing me out.' England grit his teeth and forced himself to sound level-headed and somewhat close to polite. He really couldn't be arsed to deal with any more grief today and his tolerance for his brothers' particular flavour of annoyance was always low.

'No, hear me out for a minute,' Scotland put a large hand on England's good shoulder and let it rest there, heavy, and England tensed at the contact, 'breathe, for just one bloody second. Even before France came back you weren't feeling great and you've had a shit few days. Just breathe, and stop trying to take control of every damn thing.'

Scotland's eyes looked far too serious and, dare he say, concerned and England tried to shrug him off, 'I'm fine, I only got caught in the shoulder- it's nothing any of us haven't had before. There's no need for all of this,' England gestured with his head to the neat rolls of bandages and the bottle of antiseptic. They were modern luxuries to them; effective and modern medical supplies were only things that were easily to hand in the last century. England had received far worse injuries before, hell, had received far worse injuries from Scotland before- this truly was nothing worthy of any particular extra care or attention.

What he wanted was for Scotland to leave him alone and go and check on North, to make sure he was okay and let England pick at his shoulder how he wanted. Scotland wasn't usually one to provide any form of tender affection or coddling, whilst England had been growing up Scotland's method of child rearing at been a firm, rough bluntness that he now found oddly comforting and expected. This sort of behaviour usually came from Wales, so to see it from Scotland was incredibly unnerving.

'I'm not talking about the shoulder,' Scotland only tightened his hold and England tipped his head back against the wall in frustration, 'I can feel you better now that I'm close and you're putting me on edge.'

There were benefits to being in a political union. The UK was made up of four separate countries, four independent states with long, messy histories that intertwined yes, but were still very separate beings. However, under the United Kingdom they formed one nation, one political entity and that caused a strange blurring of self, sometimes. It gave them all a sort of fuzzy idea as to how the other members of the union were doing- how the English banks were faring, how the Welsh harvest was coming along, how much the tourism in Northern Ireland had swelled and boosted the local economy and how much the fishing industry was suffering in Scotland.

It was handy; it was extremely useful when it came to planning and understanding how to best move forward as one nation of 4 people, and it was also a pain.

It was a pain because England couldn't hide himself as much as he wanted to around his brothers these days, couldn't put on an entirely impenetrable mask of indifference as he would like because if there was something wrong then the other members of the United Kingdom would know about it, regardless of how much he tried to cover it up. He was used to this feeling of intimacy with Wales, who had been bound to him since 1301, but Scotland still felt somewhat new. They hadn't always had a peaceful relationship, their people had often been at very bloody war with each other, and at times it still felt odd for Scotland to read him so well, even after three hundred odd years together. Especially in moments when England wanted to come across differently to how he really felt.

It sometimes felt even stranger for Scotland to act upon England's vulnerability with kindness rather than take advantage, although England knew that he was being unfair to think that. He hadn't always given his eldest brother the opportunity to demonstrate anything other than what England had come to expect and a lot of that he knew in hindsight was self-inflicted.

As for right now...

England forced himself to meet Scotland’s eye, 'I'll be fine. I just need to sleep and eat something and get home.'

'Aye, I know,' Scotland gave his shoulder a brief pat before letting go, standing up to pick up the supplies on the counter, 'but you feel like you're gonna have a heart attack so until then, let someone else do something for a change. You don't have to do it all on your own.'

England closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the tap as Scotland washed his hands. Scotland was calm and healthy, his banks were strong, his people were happy and he felt steady and familiar- an old ancient lullaby and a well-trodden path to home.

Despite what he said, and even though he wouldn't never admit this even to himself, having Scotland nearby felt good and England had to concede that maybe his brother was right. He took a deep breath in and held it for a moment before letting it go, feeling the tension that he hadn't realised was there lift from his shoulders and jaw.

Scotland made a noise of approval and stepped closer, a calloused hand on England's arm to warn him about the incoming stinging sensation, 'everything is being handled. After this I'll go grab us something to eat, drag North in the shower, and you can go to bed.'

Belatedly, England realised that their entire conversation was being held in Brythonic and although a small part of himself was unamused that Scotland could trick and lull him into passivity so easily, he was mostly grateful for it. A shared history, a collective notion of stability, peace and default comfort wasn't something to take for granted. England couldn't quite bring himself to express this in words, but he hoped that his appreciation for it came across well enough by keeping his eyes shut and doing as he was told.

[sleepdeprivedheretic]

Restrained

  Notes: I have no excuse, I just want a crack fic with smut treated seriously with Tai-chan to step on me the reader while looking down cockily. Humor, angst, fluff, splashed with pining dust :’) Also, I love Linkin Park.  

Setting: Reader-chan is a villain and is terrible at being one, cue ongoing physical and snark battles with Tai-chan.  

Warnings: Kinky Smut (So here’s what my unacknowledged, vanilla self, has tried to write and nobody has to read it but it’s here in the story: Dirty talk, safe words, possessiveness, edging, talk about inexperience, handcuffs, breeding kink, unsafe sex, Tai’s mean and leaves the reader unattended, but he feels bad afterwards, lube, somehow there’s vanilla, and fluff) and my weak emotions for Good Boys.  

……….

       You didn’t exactly chose the Villain life, it basically chose you. Cue your dad’s maniacal laughter, your mother’s evil smirks and her ways of teaching you how to go for the jugular since you were five...wasn’t the most heroic childhood.  You grew up distant away from others, living life learning how to avoid the law and training heavily to avoid losing a fight, your parents seemed to take that as a green-light and pushed you into the family business. Not like you could fight it, anyway. You were an outcast from day one, and had no close friends.  

That being said, you didn’t really like hurting other people or doing typical villainy stuff, but you liked fighting. It gave you a feeling of pushing all of your aggression and bottled up anger onto somebody without killing them, whether it be heroes, vigilantes, or hell, other villains. It wasn’t healthy, but you had nothing else, really.  

 Cue in the physical form of your recent excitement, the BMI hero who resembled a matryoshka doll and was kinda cute in his big form, no lie. The two of you had met near his agency with Sakura petals floating along with the breeze, and honestly it reminded you of a shojo manga. Well, him minding his own business until he’d seen your pathetic attempts at shoplifting.

He was there for a fight, and at first you overestimated him, thinking that he would go down quickly, but you were wrong. So wrong. You weren’t the best of the villains, but you held your ground, the both of you panting and sweaty and for the first time, you liked fighting against a hero.

Of course being a self-called villain full of dirty tricks up your sleeve, you were good at vanishing, leaving him to shout curses at you, but you didn’t care. From then on out, the two of you would continue ironically meeting in places. It was either you stumbling into him walking around town, eating Takoyaki, or him catching you...not doing anything villainous because you sucked at it, but you know, it’s the thought that counts.  

Then the snark happened.

“Where did you get your hero outfit? From the thrift store?” You quipped.

“As in a matter of fact, I did. Saw yer mom there buyin’ old man’s underwear, Sweetheart.”

Kami help you.

“You don’t even know my mom! But yeah, she’d probably do that.” You answered.

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah, she’s kind of weird.”    

      You weren’t on the top of the villain lists (or if you were on the list), but you were good at holding your ground, and he seemed to know of you, and thus seemed as if he was always making plans to run into you. You were no better. You had gotten into the habit of causing small trouble around his agency, and your battles were always lengthy, full of snark, and you admit you kind of liked to feel him push you against a brick building, leering down at you before the whole thing started.

Anyway, you’ve always managed to either escape or he’d just throw up his hands and turn and walk away in a frustrated huff, like that one time you fell flat on your face, accidentally dodging his spear-formed punch. It was one time, but he didn’t let you live it down, asking about your nose.

 Oddly enough, the other pro-heroes, Miruko and Hawks, would just glance at you, sigh and then leave, muttering something about idiots, Eraserhead would just guide the children away from the two of you with a blank look, and Endeavor would just avoid the two of your messy fights altogether, opting that he ironically wasn’t going to deal with “an old married couple”. Whatever that meant.

It didn’t stop smaller, weaker heroes from trying, though. Trying to be hotshots and bring you in. Of course, they failed. You didn’t listen to Linkin Park while training your ass out in the cold rain just to be brought down by some punks.    

Tai-chan, or what you’ve become calling him (thanks for Hawks just silently handing you a paper with his name on it, the absolute Wing-man), noticed. Although he was a hero and didn’t dissuade the young ones from chasing after villains, he did basically say that anybody around his area was his to battle. It melted your heart, a little.

It didn’t stop the two of your bantering and bickering, or sometimes he’d say something, trying to be serious but it comes out as silly, that you couldn’t help but burst into a fit of giggles and he’d get flustered, having a cute blush that you couldn’t help but just eat up.

It was like an odd addiction, you wanted to see more of him, even though it was through unhealthy things such as your fights, you wanted to hear more corny catchphrases, see his eye twitch of annoyance (you were a little shit), and finally, the both of you panting in defeat as he angrily munched on Takoyaki, snarling as you stole one, but let you have it, and so on.

You weren’t sure if you were becoming an unhealthy masochist, or you just really liked him. Perhaps both, because your heart would flutter every time you see him smile around his sidekicks from afar, and then clench because you were so far gone into the life of a villain, you knew that you could never have that life. Be a hero, or have him at least as a friend.

Such sad thoughts did plague you, and it must have shown through, because you would halfheartedly remark to his commentary or sometimes, you just wouldn’t show up for a day. He noticed. He was keen like that, and so to your surprise, he would take your fights more seriously, as if trying to keep you there, not letting you keep running away.

Honestly, it was a little sweet, but your poor heart was getting confused at your little game, and didn’t know how to honestly feel for him.      

Of course, everything must come to an end, doesn’t it?

 He was leering down at you with a cocky smirk, clothes ruined, showing off whatever he had, a boot stepping onto your chest, rain soaking through his soft hair and splattering your cheeks. An odd feeling came over you. Something you weren’t familiar with, but through your mask, you felt that it was safe to just take a mental picture and burn it forever within your brain.

 The fight was different. You were sick all week with the common cold, and when you returned from your little hibernation, weird gossip and rumors were littering about near the FatGum Agency. It was either you left him because you were getting bored, or you had found another hero to play with, or you were finally caught. Whatever it was, he seemed to be excited, relieved(?), and at the same time furious to see you. He demanded where have you been, and feeling increasingly snarky and not sure what to feel with your pining dumbass heart, you retaliated that you were on a vacation from his stupidity.

 Yeah, you lost.  

“Finally caught ya.” His voice rasped out and hot damn did that not help with the odd searing warmth churning within your guts. The feeling of losing always frightened you, for you weren’t sure whether or not your family would actually give a damn. Yet, you felt elated and calm. It was over, he could finally call the shots, and you could just sit in a jail cell and atone for whatever petty crimes you committed.

“So you have. How’s the weather up there, you giraffe?” You couldn’t help but ask, and the boot on your chest pressed a tiny bit down in annoyance, but he made sure that you weren’t hurting.

“Just fine. I think I stepped in shit, though.”  

You couldn’t help it. You began laughing, and to your astonishment, he did, too.

“I missed ya.” He admitted as the both of you calmed down. That surprised you.

“I thought you hated me?”

He gave you a look.

“You’re annoying, and persistent, but not evil. Like a flea, you keep on bouncin’ back up, and I can’t help but not dislike ya.” The words sent a warm tingling up your spine, and you found yourself smiling softly.

“I couldn’t hate you either, you know. You’re the only one,” You swallowed, and the continued as his eyes now focused onto yours. “who I can freely just be myself around with.”

“Whaddya mean?” The tone was softer, now, but ever so curious. Well, it’s a good time as any to release your tragic backstory while in the drizzling rain.

“My parents are both villains, and so I was raised as one. I could never be friends with heroes, or really anybody. I could never dream to be a hero, because of my background. It’s shady from the start, who in their right mind would pick a hero who could just end up being like their parents?”

 The words tumbled out of you, feeling the metaphorical weight be lifted off from your chest, as the rain quickened it’s pace. An uncomfortable silence washed over the two of you, and already you were regretting the word vomit that had just spilled out of your mouth. You said too much, you cringed inwardly. You should have just kept your mouth shut, now he’s going to pity you-

“You know what? Fuck it.” Your eyes widened with shock and confusion as the so-called “DadGum”  had just said one of the worst bad words.  

“Did you just-”

“Your parents can jump into the nearest jail-cell. You,” His eyes glinted with an unknown darkness that set your insides ablaze. “have two options. Either you can platonically become a hero-in-training  and live with me, or you can be mine. My hero-in-training, my roommate, my lover, just, mine.” He put an emphasize on the word, and your face flushed despite the chilly autumn rain.  

You would be surprised, but you oddly weren’t. Endeavor was right, the two of you were basically an old married couple, bickering and bantering, always staring at each other when one was sure the other wasn’t looking.

“Alright. I’d like us to try...um...being more than...rivals?” You stammered. He cocked an eyebrow.

“I didn’ just pour my heart out for ya so ya can deliver that. Try a lil’ harder.” He scoffed.  

“Fine, fine! I..I like you too-”

“Love.”

“Love, you too! I just...I dunno, always wanted to find an excuse to just be around you.”

“That’s sweet, an’ I love ya too, Sugarplum, but ya weren’t here for a whole week-

“I was sick with the common cold!”

“N’ then these shitty rumors started-

“Don’t act as if that’s my fault!”

“So I’m feelin’ a lil’ snappy an’ hungry today, but not for food.” He humored you.

“What does that mean?” You tested the waters, knowing the truth, already. He took his boot off of you, crouching down to give you a predatory smile.

“I won’ touch ya unless ya beg me, but our lil’ cat’n’mouse games have had me riled up, for a very, very long time.” He leaned in and whispered in your ear, and you couldn’t help but swallow thickly with want as he continued.

“N’ now we’ve discussed our feelin’s, I’m all just wantin’ to tie you to my bed.” He finished as he continued leering at you as if you were the sheep, and him the wolf. You didn’t blame him, you’ve been wanting this, too. It was a little fast paced, but several months of mutual pining would probably do that to you.

 “I mean, at least take me out to dinner, first.” You tried to joke. He just shrugged.

“Done.”

“What? I’m a villain! My family are villains!” You tried to argue. He gave a smile mixed in with a humorous look.  

“Villain? Last time I checked, starin’ at candy from the hand of a baby, isn’t puttin’ ya on any wanted list. You’re mine, now. Doesn’t matter what yer shitty family thinks. I’ll fight’em, too.” The sentence made your heart swell, feelings of joy and acceptance fluttered within your for the first time in a long time, and you let yourself give a warm smile. His eyes softened, as he helped pull you up to your feet, letting you lean against him as you maintained your balance.

    “Alright. We...we can just be a normal couple? How does this even work?” You tried out. He glanced at you.

“Yeah, we’re goin’ to jus’ be a normal couple. Well, you’re gonna train with me, so that we can eventually get ya a license. N’ you’re gonna kick your parent’s asses, not as a villain or a civilian, but as a hero.” He started off softly, but then a more rambunctious grin took over his face at the prospect, and to be honest, you felt like that was a good idea, spitting everything that they’ve taught you, back in their faces as you live life the way you want it, with your partner, of course.

Speaking of which.

“So...we’re just going to continue getting soaked?” You asked, trying to keep yourself from shuddering.

“Yeah, but not in the rain. C’mon, my place.” He gruffed, and you found yourself eagerly nodding.

You weren’t sure how this happened so fast. First you entered his apartment, shivering, then he said that your clothes needed to be washed, aaaaand you were here, on his bed, naked, chilled, and your hands completely cuffed to the post as he was staring at you with such a dirty, hungry look, you felt thrilled by it.

“You want this? Say no an’ we’ll stop.” He offered one last time.

“I want this.” You admitted, and he gave off an almost predatory grin as you watched in amazement of him shucking off his clothes at the pace of the speed of light. Hot damn, he was huge, and beautiful. He grinned at your unabashed stare, crawling towards you on the king-sized bed, opening your legs as he slotted himself between them.

“So pretty, and wet.” He chuckled, giving you little time to think as his thumb swiped at your leaking opening, causing you to gasp.

“I think that I’m gonna eat you out.” Was the only warning you were given as your legs were pulled further apart, and the next thing you knew, he was on you. Your hands jerked against the fuzzy handcuffs as you felt him licking long, hot, and wet stripes from your opening, to your clit. You couldn’t help but mewl as you subconsciously fought against your restraints, thighs trying to clench around him as he gripped them, keeping them apart as he suckled at your clit.

You felt helpless as he was giving you such an intense and dark stare while he was driving you to the edge, gauging your teary-eyed reaction while you bit your lips, hands squeezing onto thin air as you felt yourself getting closer and closer, hips bucking wildly.

Then, he stopped, and you growled into a pitiful whine, causing him to laugh.

“How does it feel, causin’ others to wait?”

You huffed. He seriously couldn’t be that petty!  

“Common. Cold.” You let out a hiss, and he gave you an unimpressed stare.

“Are ya givin’ me an attitude?” Was a warning.  

“Yeah, I am!” Like a bull, you ran right into that red flag. He grinned, a little darkly. It honestly would’ve scared you a little, if you weren’t so turned on.

“Yer still a lil’ too feisty. As much as I love it, I ‘ave other plans in mind.” He gave a false pout, and your stomach churned with awaited excitement in what he was going to do, next.

“I’ll be back. I’m going to the store. Be good, okay?” He gave your surprised look a dark smirk, and you couldn’t help but growl. The audacity! You loved him, but the audacity! You couldn’t help but look on with bewilderment as he gotten dressed, opening and closing the bedroom door shut as he left you all alone and tied up.

 You waited for what seemed forever, pissed off and bored out of your mind as you felt increasingly cold and still wet. You refused to cry. He said he’d be back, didn’t he? Then why do you feel so helpless and lonesome. You felt tears shed with relief and frustration as he finally opened the door to the bedroom, black bag in hand.

“Bastard!” You hissed, and he eyed you with a sympathetic expression mixed in with a little guilt. He got undressed and set the bag next to the two of you, crawling towards you and wiped away the wetness on your cheeks, kissing them and your mouth as he held a gentler expression. He held your chilled frame against his too warm one, nuzzling you as he soothed your ruffled feathers.    

“I know, Darlin’. I’ll make it all better for you, I promise.”  He kissed your nose as he gathered the blankets to surround your skin, still letting you be exposed, but at least you’ll be a little warmer.

“Do you wanna continue?”

“Yes.” You said without hesitation, feeling relieved after seeing his softer side, and still wanting release, and received a wet, dirty kiss. You moaned into it, feeling his hands rub your breasts, squeezing them rather roughly as he toyed with the nubs with his roughed up hands. He broke away too soon, leaving the two of you panting as his dark, feral look returned as he eyed you.

“Bought you a lil’ somethin’.” He turned away, rummaging through the bag. You eyed it wearily, hoping that he didn’t go too crazy. He pulled out a bottle of strawberry lube, that was good, and...your face flushed.

“Ever used these, before?” He held out the little vibrating bullets for you to see. You shook your head, and he chuckled.  

“You’re very vanilla, ain’t you?”  

“I-I…” You stuttered, but he kissed your forehead.

“What’s yer safe word?” He asked. Safe word? Why couldn’t the two of you have a normal first time, together? You thought about it.

“Grapes.”

“Why that word?”

“I hate them.” You shrugged.

“Fair enough. Alright, let’s get started.” He said lowly, opening the lube and bullets. He added some of the lube onto the bullets, attaching one bullet to your clit, and the other to your nipple with little pieces of tape. Yeah, you were confused, too, but he didn’t pay you any mind as he set the controller to both bullets to the side, flipping the switch to a low setting.

You let out a choked whimper as your clit was being stimulated, him leaning forward and enjoying the view of your wetness drenching the sheets.

“Such an eager slut.” He bit out almost darkly as his fingers spread open your labia.

“’M notta slut!” You protested, but it was on deaf ears as he had something else in mind. He generously poured a dime amount of lube onto his fingers, grinning down at you as the strawberry scent floated nicely in the room, mixing in with your own scent of arousal. You almost jolted as his lubed up fingers prodded the tight muscle to your vaginal entrance.  

“Damn, relax, you’re so fuckin’ tight.” He murmured, and through your lust-fogged brain, you wondered if anybody else knew about this side of “Dad-gum”. Although having a rough demeanor, he was gently opening you up, and you felt warmth blossom in your chest at the extra attention that he was giving you, glancing at you from time to time to see if you were alright.

You were more than fine. Five fingers deep, and a higher setting to the mini bullets, you were very close to coming. You rocked your hips in a desperate fashion, hands clenched tightly as the fuzz to the handcuffs prevented you from hurting yourself.

“You gonna cum?” He leered.

“Yes!” You bit out, and your stomach fluttered with excitement mixed with dread at that dark chuckle.  

   “Not yet.” He switched the vibrator off, and you swore you could hear yourself huff into an annoyed growl.  Tears of frustration threatened to spill, and he gave another sympathetic look. You swore that he was mocking you.

“It’s okay, alright? I’ll give you what ya want.” He kissed your eyes, holding your frame close to him as he then rubbed his cheek against yours.

“Patience, Baby. I’m hurtin’ too. Right now, let’s let ya cool down while I mark up this pretty skin of yours, alright?” He kissed you gently, and you were now aware of his own need. It was swollen and looked angry as precum was headily dripping onto the sheets. It twitched as you realized that he knew that you were staring. You licked your lips and he groaned with want.

“See? Hurtin.”. He then continued to do as he promised, kissing you slowly as his hands rubbed against your skin, squeezing here and there as your hands itched to touch him. He paid your whining no heed as he licked at the juncture at your neck, biting it harshly, suckling at the blossoming bruise as his dick twitched at your wanton whine and buck of hips. He kissed the spot gingerly, eyeing your debauched frame with greed as he lowered his mouth to another spot.

“Damned young punks, trying to bring you in. They should know better. You’re in my territory.” Bite. You winced, but keened with need as he lathered the blossoming bruises with gentle kisses.  

“Every inch of you is mine.” His eyes glittered almost darkly as he tore away from his work. Oh yes, you were looking nice. He didn’t do too much, but the love bites he imprinted onto your neck and clavicle helped soothe the possessive ache that he had. He knew that you wanted to touch him, too, and was thrilled at the aspect.

“You wanna touch?” He prodded. You keened into a hurried nod, not caring about your pride.

“Please.” What a cute sound, how could he refuse? He relented, and you were on him. It felt as if he was guiding you, letting your hands roam, doing your own squeezing at his stomach, biceps, and pecs while you kissed him feverishly. He basked in your attention, letting you claim your prize for being such a wonderful and patient Sweetheart. Of course he kept you from touching his dick, promising that another time, definitely, so you relented in favoring of returning his little marking game.

He swore he could come untouched by your less rough touch, eyeing him to see if he acknowledged that you were doing a good job, to which he couldn’t help but find that adorable, as well.

“You’re so good for me. So patient and sweet. I’m going to breed you, now. Would you like that?” He hummed, and you swore that your brain stopped and your core clenched with need. One sentence should not sound that hot, but it did.

“Yes. I would like that.” You answered a little too gently, and he hummed with approval, kissing you.

“If you don’t, remember that we don’t hafta do anything that you don’t wanna do. Remember your safe word?” He inquired, you nodded and told him.

“Good. You wanna be bred n’ dirty-talked? I gotcha some Plan B at the store, didn’t really think about condoms. Is that fine?”

You nodded, telling him that you liked both ideas. To be honest, you didn’t mind being marked up in such a way. Not with your pent up lust and feelings of love towards this sadistic Himbo of a man.    

“Lie on yer back. I wanna see ya.” He growled out, and you hastily complied.

“Now, tell me, how experienced are ya, really? Not hard to notice that you seem to be learnin’ a few things.” He gave you look in which you couldn’t decipher.

“It’s dumb.”

“No it ain’t. Doesn’t matter to me if ya have history.” He kissed your knee softly as his expression gentled, and you felt yourself relax.

“Your possessiveness says otherwise.” You tried.

“’Cause they’ve been houndin’ around what’s been mine in my territory. Your earlier experiences don’t count. You’re mine, now, and I’m planning on keepin’ it that way.” He smoothed your leg gently despite the dark edge in his tone of words. Really, you feel elated.

“So no judgment?” You inquired.

“None.” He promised.  You believed him. Feeling a bit more braver and relaxed, you could trust him with your secrets. You didn’t know a way how to make it less cringe-worthy to admit, but you wanted to tell him, anyway.

“I never really had to time or opportunity.” You found yourself saying, and that’s all he needed to hear.  

 His eyes flashed into something that you couldn’t decipher, but it didn’t matter. He wan onto you, kissing you slowly yet frequently, retouching every place where he could reach with a more gentle approach.

“Don’t make a kink out of it.” You groaned. He chuckled lowly.

“Why not? Ya get to do this, once.”

“It’s a social construct, and dumb. It’s not like my personality is magically going to change after having something within me.”

“I agree completely, Dearest, but I find it endearin’ and sweet that you’re willing to share this with me.”  

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” You huffed out softly.

“Might be, but my dick’s trying to convince itself to do the thinkin’.”

“Maybe you should let it, then.” You prodded, and he then gave you a dark grin.

“As ya wish. Don’t forget yer safe word.” Was the only warning you had.

 You were already loosened and wet, and although his actions resembled of that like an animal as he kissed you with fervor and biting some new areas, he was gentle when he decided that it was time for the main course. Coating himself with a generous amount of cold lube, he hissed as he turned on the bullet vibrators, letting you get stimulated as he breached your vaginal opening, teasing and prodding the muscle as it opened up for him.

You felt the hot, thick head of his dick slip inside with little to no restraint, surprising you as your legs widened further, allowing him to sink in further. He was big, and your walls had to stretch to accommodate him, but you wanted it so damned badly. It hurt so good, you thought. There was a little pain, but the delicious stretch heavily outweighed it, and it reached places that you didn’t know that just needed to be itched.  

Hot damn, did you feel stuffed.

“How are ya?” He then asked, and then you realized that he was fully seated inside, and you could tell that he was desperate and hot as you were.

“If you stop this time, I might actually kill you.” Your threat was light, but he swallowed thickly at the intensity of your stare and heated gaze of want.

“Good?”

“Wonderful. Move.” You all but demanded, but he eagerly complied, letting your too-tight walls massage him.

“Fuck! So tight. Might keep ya like this, re-tie ya to my bed. Fuck ya full n’ heavy.” He couldn’t help but growl out the words, being rewarded with the tightened clench of your walls.

“Ya like that? Bein’ my personal cocksleeve? Belly round n’ breasts heavy with milk?” His movements jerked faster as he squeezed your breast that didn’t have the bullet pleasantly buzzing against it. You couldn’t help but nod, arousal dripping onto the sheets as the bullet roughly buzzed against your clit, the both of you feeling the painful aching need for release. His hips were all but snapping to meet your thrusts, balls slapping against your ass, as he engaged you into a filthy kiss as the lewd sounds and scents echoed and filtered within the walls.

Your head felt light and the both of you were covered in a sheen of sweat, he opted to weave his hand into yours, holding it rather almost gently as he moved as if a man possessed. Yours hit first, gripping you and clenching you out of nowhere as you let out his name in a frantic shout, clutching onto him ever so tightly as your head fogged into a sharp relief that left you into tears from finally able to cum. He was no better, hips faltering as he felt you embrace your own orgasm, causing his mind to almost go blank as the movement of his hips bucked into a frantic state. He huffed out, calling out to you as he held onto you tightly, anchoring the both of you into a freight train of orgasmic bliss.

You whimpered out your oversensitive clit and breast, hitting the damned power button to those little bullets as you came down from your high. Taishiro collapsed next to you as the both of you were panting, trying to catch your breaths. You were so drowsy, but you really didn’t want to sleep in your own spunk and messes.

“Dirty.” You whined, and he laughed, kissing you.

“Let’s get cleaned up, then. Know ya don’t wanna, but you could seriously get an UTI if ya don’t use the bathroom.” You agreed, tearing off the bullets, and pulling your weakened state up to use the bathroom as he decided to lazily change the sheets, throwing the used sheets, toys, and the black bag in the corner, somewhere. He would deal with that, later.

He caught you as you stumbled into him from coming out of the bathroom. Gently, he maneuvered you to where you were snuggled up against him, a heavy blanket re-warming up your cooling skin as he hummed, gently playing with your hair as he kissed you softly.

“Ya good?”

“Tired n’ fine.” You mumbled, peeking up to look at him. He smiled gently.

“I looooove you.” He singsonged, earning him your own gentle smile and a soft kiss.

“I love you, too. Go to sleep.” You playfully griped at the last part, and he chuckled in compliance.

…………..

Bonus:  Yeah your parents were pissed, but you were a hero, and their opinions didn’t really count, anymore. They knew your potential, so they cleared away from you as you and your fiance moved into a safer city. End.

……….

 Here’s my poor attempt at being more versatile in writing kinky smut. Hope it’s not too much cringe, I’m usually too vanilla :’)  

[chocolate-parfait]

Matchup for @bigwintter

bigwintter , dear, tumbrl ate your ask away and I can't seem to be able to tag you for whatever reason. I hope you'll be able to see this nonetheless!

I match you up with... William!

You two are the embodiment of the dark academia aesthetic tbh✨

During your first encounter, you mostly keep to yourself, but Will can tell that you two are, in a way, similar to each other. It all starts with casual and sporadic encounters where the general ambiance is “Oh God, I’m talking to THE William Shakespeare”, but all that quickly dissolves through time. The writer instantly takes a liking to you, a normal reaction to your genuine love for literature, but the more he talks to you, the more he realizes there’s something more to it.

Your aura kinda works like a magnet. It’s in your little gestures, the way you carry yourself, completely at ease despite a 200 years-wide gap between your time and your new surroundings. Most of all, he’s genuinely amazed each time you give him deep and psychological insight about a recently published novel or sometimes even a piece he has written himself. Sometimes you stumble a bit and don’t exactly know how to convey your thoughts in a precise way, but this makes him all the more curious(he finds it very cute, actually). He truly wonders how come you’re able to give a fascinatingly knowledgeable answer to whatever topic the two of you are discussing, and this ignites an always increasingly burning fire deep inside of him.

He tries (unless SOMEONE cough Theo cough forcefully kicks him out) to visit the mansion more often, other times he invites you over to his residence to have a nice chat over some tea. If you feel like it, he even plans some rendezvous in the city to show you around. It’s very nice of him and he acts like a total gentleman! But... some problems may arise when he starts showing his overly possessive side.

Since you know your fair share of information when it comes to psychology and all that may come in handy to diagnose someone with being a yandere (and whatever type of mental illness Shakespeare has), you notice the signs early on, so at least you’re not completely caught off guard. As to how to act next... well, that’s pretty much up to you. You can ask Comte for protection for the rest of the month and then go back home, or you can try and talk it out with him if you prefer.

Since this is a matchup, let’s pretend you chose to stay in the past and confront him about it. You go to his house and he’s acting like usual, although there’s a glint in his eyes that sends a shiver down your spine. When you finally bring up his weird behaviors a switch in his mind flips the other way. It’s a really intense moment because as he’s explaining all the reasons why he deemed it necessary to “protect” you from others, he suddenly realizes that at the root of the whole problem there’s only his genuine affection towards you. But would he act the same way with Vincent? No, of course not. Then, there must be something else to his feelings, right? And the word he had written so many times, the main theme of most of his stories, comes crashing down on him. Love.

He doesn’t outright say it, but it’s subtle and you already know about it. Once more, you can decide whether to correspond to his feelings right away or wait a little longer, just know that you’ll be in for a lot of therapy sessions. This man needs three things: affection, a LOT of reassurance, and someone to show him how healthy relationships work. You can provide him with all three, and though he might reject the idea of change (perhaps even in a violent manner), with time and care he’ll come to understand where the boundaries of a relationship lie. Surely, there will be times in which he falls prey to his darkest thoughts, but the progress is admirable.

His recovery aside, he’s truly one of the kindest lovers out there, getting slightly rough only during horny times (he wouldn’t be able to withstand the guilt of having hurt you), and he never misses out on important dates and small details. There is a lot of unspoken understanding between you two, and with just a glance, you can convey everything that words wouldn’t suffice to describe. Regardless, he still loves composing little poems on the spot just for you (he later writes them down in a thick book that he gifts you for your birthday), pressing a soft kiss to your lips when he’s done reciting his small part.

As a couple, you pretty much have all the freedom in the world. Living in a house far from prying eyes and unwelcome visitors, you can enjoy your much-beloved solitude from the rest of the world. Even in the same house, he will eventually come to respect your wish for independence and alone-time. Though there is a lot of work behind it, you and William finally reach an equilibrium that few couples would be able to maintain for long.

Second choice: Dazai

Despite being quite the trickster, an unprovoked Dazai is a person that enjoys quiet spaces and his fair share of alone time. You two could definitely get along pretty well, but getting past the acquaintances-who-have-some-idle-chat-every-now and then phase? That could be slightly harder.

Everyone has their bad days, and depending on the person, some may want to let the whole world know about their feelings, whether others prefer keeping everything inside. Well, Dazai is definitely the second case. Just as usual, he puts on his happy mask and clown nose in the poor attempt of shifting his focus on his surroundings, but ever so often his facade slips off completely. Be it a glance, an unhappy comment or the sudden quietness, you pick up on it quite easily.

There are many strong personalities that leave their lasting impressions in the mansion. For each you could find at least 10 adjectives to describe them without you even being close, but what about Dazai? At first glance, he seems like one of the most dual characters in the vampiric group; one side of him is warm and caring, completely in the norm, but most things he says leave a certain bitter aftertaste. One could describe him as a breeze, but you had noticed that this warm spring breeze could turn into a chilly autumn one in the blink of an eye.

He’s seemingly a superficial man, but many little details convince you otherwise. Spending a whole month in the past with no one to talk to was out of the question, and mystery man here is the tragic hero that had piqued your curiosity the most so... why not give it a try? You would have to approach him first (he reaches out to people mainly when he sees they're struggling with their emotions), and with the right words here and there his fake smile will crumble away. (you don't necessarily need to be an expert speaker, he's a smart one and will understand what you mean)

Of course, he won't be giving in too easily, but he's quick to notice your genuine interest and curiosity towards him. You'll be going back in a month, so even if he let you see a snippet of who he truly was... it wouldn't be such a bad thing, right? Unfortunately for him, all the romance he has ever experienced in his life was tied to his and his partner's mental health, so with you there to help him out with his emotional state, he's quick to fall for you. (these aren't really spoilers,, its just facts about irl dazai but idk how much they decided to keep in his route tbh, I've only read a general summary)

On the other hand, it may take you some time to realize your feelings, and sometimes you wonder whether your initial reason to get close to him was just your love for psychology. With time, that will all become a secondary matter, for thus you'll start seeing him as a true friend, and perhaps something more.

Oftentimes you hang out in his room and have long discussions while sharing some tea and sweets together. Topics may vary from analysis of fictional characters to more philosophical matter, and a couple dumb jokes here and there: other times the room falls in the most comfortable of silences, the atmosphere warm and relaxed.

Dazai definitely doesn't mind your goofy side, he actually enjoys it quite a lot. You, him, and Arthur could team up and become the most annoying trio of the mansion, much to Isaac's dismay. It's very clear to the Englishman though, that you two have something going on, although you don't seem to be aware of it. He will start teasing you and dropping heavy hints until Dazai eventually confronts him about it. 

When it dawns on you, it doesn't take long before you and Dazai confess to each other and become a couple. If you're both mutually interested then why wait? Your straightforward nature plays a big part in this, despite your communication skills. Dazai secretly admires this aspect of yours, and if you question him about it, he will admit it without embarrassment and the fondest of looks.

As partners, you have a very mature relationship, and neither of you has a problem with meeting the other's needs. The Japanese writer will always respect your wishes and opinions, but every now and then, mostly at nighttime, he will crave your touch and comfort. Old habits die hard, and it's not easy to completely let go of one's past, that is why he seeks your warmth. Offer him your lap, pepper his face with delicate kisses, tenderly stroke his hair; whatever you have to offer will be more than enough for him. These are very intimate and romantic moments between the two of you, in which your bond gets stronger and stronger, although through quiet reassurance and support.

He doesn't necessarily mind PDA, but he'd rather you keep your most explicit gestures to the privacy of your rooms. Nevertheless is a man of great calm and patience, and he's a great actor, too; don't be too surprised if he decides to tease you in public. Generally speaking though, he'll stick to basic stuff like hand-holding and such.

You have dates in the most random of places! The termae, the gazebo, on the riverbank or in some obscure neighborhood of the city. He loves strolling around with you, and he'll get so lost in the feeling of your hand in his that once he snaps out of it he doesn't realize where your feet have taken you.

Another activity that you two could end up doing together is drinking. He takes you to his favorite bar, where he orders his favorite drink, cigarette in hand (he smokes only if you're okay with it) while looking impossibly hot. You can order yourself a beer and then you can have whatever discussion you feel like having. He is not one to judge, and will happily comply and talk about all topics. Whether it's a book you've read or something that happened to someone in the mansion, he will quietly listen to you as he sips on his whiskey or brandy or whatever, adding a thoughtful comment here and there.

[baby-n-boo]

Home- a commission for @pixangelofbees (6338 words) The sun had barely crested the horizon, bathing the entire apartment in a peachy sort of glow, as Patton crept down the stairs, a small backpack clutched in his hands, the keychains on the zip clattering gently as he moved. Hopping familiarly over the creaky step right at the bottom, as not to wake up the rest of the house, Pat giggled to himself as his fringe bounced and fell over his eyes. The only downside of this new blindness, is that he almost collided with Logan, who was stood at the bottom of the stairs in his practical workout gear, clearly taking his own pulse, if the watch and professionally placed fingers on his neck were anything to go by. Pulling up with a tiny squeak, Pat stayed quiet till Lo was done, and had taken a mental note of the value, before flinging a comfortable arm around his shoulder. "Good morning, LoLo!" He chirped contentedly, pulling his friend into a side hug, ignoring how Logan blustered, unable to formulate a way to respond to the liberal affection. "I-It is indeed a pleasant morning, Patton..." He eventually settled on saying, trailing off as his gaze fell to the small owl print bag that the other side was holding. "Where are you going? Are you going alone? What of Virgil?" His questions came thick and fast now, concerned for his opposite, though Patton just smiled apologetically, stepping a little way away as he slung the bag onto his back. "Thomas...he wanted me to work with Jan.." He started explaining, nibbling nervously on his lip, a habit Logan had tried to teach him to kick, but had never succeeded in really losing. "...I'm meant to meet him in the library, so if anything blows up.." He inserted a gentle 'kaboom' sound effect, giggling awkwardly, before wiping off his palms on his pants. "While we're talking..it won't hurt anyone?" He phrased it like a question, shyly looking up to Logan again, and was met with a nod, Logan understanding. "So it won't hurt Roman." Logan clarified, watching as Patton's shoulders dropped in relief that he wouldn't have to say it. Nobody could deny, their resident fanciful figment was notably more vulnerable and fragile since his run in with the snake, tearing up at the slightest perceived insult or raised voice. They were all trying to help him, but he seemed to prefer spending time vanquishing imaginary and improbable villains in the imagination, to spending time with Janus anymore, even going out of his way to avoid being in the same room as him, even if that meant not eating or foregoing family time with the others. It was getting increasingly harder to coax him out, especially if Virgil was regressed, since the loud noises would cause a princely ball in the corner within a few moments, and not even the innocent baby babbles could help him, just pushing till he sunk back out to his room. Thoughts of their regressed charge in his mind, Logan fixed Patton with a look. "And what of Virgil?" He couldn't lie, nerves were coiling in his stomach, having never spent longer than a few minutes alone time with Baby Virgil, but perhaps it could be a useful observation experiment. With that lie in his head, fuelling him, Logan tuned back in to Patton explaining. "Well....i was sort of hoping you would keep an eye on him and Roman? Vee was a big kid when he went to bed last night, and he didn't crawl into bed with me during the night, so...maybe he still is?" he seemed almost pleading with the hope, like he didn't want Virge to be little without him, or maybe like he didn't expect Logan to be able to do it. Slightly affronted at the idea he wouldn't at least try, Logan nodded and gestured Patton to the door. "Rest assured, i shall endeavour to do my best, and not let chaos ensue." He tried to joke, to bring a smile back to Patton's face, the shy concern not looking quite right, and, luckily, it paid off, as Patton broke back out into a radiant smile. "Yay! Thank you Logie! I made cookies, they're on the counter for lunchtime, and there's coffee in the pot for you, and some sippies of juice in the fridge for VeeVee, and..." He babbled, wanting Lo to know everything, but he was cut off by an easy chuckle. "Patton. Patton, i know. It will be okay." He assured the exuberant father, ushering him out the door goodnaturedly, before falling victim to another tight hug. This time, he couldn't help his arms slipping round under Patton's, meeting at the back to squeeze slightly, though, as soon as they pulled away, he quickly denied it ever happened, seeing the twinkle in Pat's eyes. "Whatever you say, Lo!" Pat winked, starting down the garden path. "Oh! I'll be back about lunchtime, if things go well!" He called back, as the sun rose to a golden sort of color, halo-ing him warmly. Lo merely smiled in acknowledgement, running a hand through his hair, and closed the door gently, sighing a familiar sigh at Patton's antics. He took a few seconds, just leaning against the heavy door, letting silence settle like dust motes back over the house, before the sweat cooling on his back from his morning jog started to irritate, and he was spurred once more into action, heading to take a quick shower and change before either of the other two woke up. It didn't take long, and, knowing it was just going to be a lazy day, Logan left his hair wet, slipping into just some comfy slacks and a random polo shirt from a university none of them ever went to, tightening his signature tie for a small sense of responsibility and control. He slowly padded out to the communal area with his current reading conquest, a fantasy novel recommended by none other than their prince, to try getting a few more chapters down as the sun rose higher in the sky to give a dim but yellowish sort of light, leaving the blinds open to let it fall in neat italic columns along the floor. However, the longer it went on, the more the silence was unnerving Logan, him being so used to Patton's leaving the radio on for background noise as he cooked that he couldn't get comfortable in his easy chair without it. Forcing himself back up, he headed into the kitchen to get some coffee, sure it would shake the last of his babysitting nerves. But, as soon as he leant against the counter, his steaming cup of hot bean juice held tenderly between his hands, the urge for the radio multiplied tenfold. Almost before he knew what he was doing, he was tuning it to the right channel, kept on a dull mumble just for something to listen to. It worked almost like a lullaby would on a child, letting Lo relax his shoulders, and let out a deep exhale, as he slowly made his way back to the arm chair, and curled up again, opening his book at the homemade bookmark Virge had given him, and trying to get lost in the prose. It was flowery, and rather improbable in it's storyline, but, strangely enough, compelling. He couldn't help but keep going back to it, despite the fact it wasn't his normal taste. However, he didn't get much more than a chapter further, before shuffling, hesitant steps started to become obvious, coming down the stairs. They were easily identifiable as Virgil's, since Roman would never leave his room unprompted, so, pretending to still be reading, Logan decided to let the answer of how old the regressor was feeling, come to him. Virgil was fully shrouded in a dark blanket as he shuffled past, seemingly in his own world, since he didn't even notice the logical side beside him, looking like he hadn't slept in weeks. Pretty normal for adult V, and, breathing a sigh of relief that he wasn't needed right away, Logan watched the emo make some food, out the corner of his eye. He didn't need to, and really, it wasn't like it was interesting to watch, a shambling pile of blankets moving slowly about their small kitchen to get a bowl of cereal, but, knowing that Patton was relying on him, Logan couldn't help but keep an eye on the not-really-baby. Not that it was the best use of his time. Virge seemed entirely numb to the existence of another side in the communal area, though, apparently, muscle memory still had a place in his mind, as, on autopilot, he grabbed the milk and poured the last of it into his bowl of-luckily healthy-cereal, before shaking it a little with a small 'hmph' and turning to speak over the breakfast bar, so used to Patton being there. "Hey, Pat...think we need more-..." he started, before his mind caught up with his body, to see Logan, a blush starting to form high up on his cheek bones. "Oh. Hey Lo." he greeted awkwardy, putting down the empty carton and heartprint bowl of cheerios he had been holding, to pull the blanket closer about his shoulders anxiously. It had been slipping to show the shamefully pastel blue shirt underneath, and he really didn't want to show the usually stoic side such an obvious sign that he wasn't entirely adult. Logan waved quietly back by way of greeting, placing his drink aside once more, and closed his book carefully, bookmarking the page subtly, so he could affix Virgil wth his full attentions. Fidgeting from foot to foot, Virge swallowed a few times, looking around a bit, before finally stumbling out a few quiet words. "Wh-Where's Patton?" he seemed fragile, the way he was curling in on himself, but Lo, not picking up the signs quite yet, spoke bluntly, taking a sip of his now-cooled coffee. "He left, to go speak to Janus, upon Thomas's request. He informed me that, should all go optimally, he will return at approximately midday." It was simple information, both to hear and to process, though Virgil suddenly seemed to be a lot paler than before, nodding quietly as he averted his gaze, to throw the trash from the counter away. "Oh...okay." He had mumbled, trying his best to pick the bowl back up with hands mostly covered in blanket, an action that Logan was sure would result in a problem, but not sure how to bring it to his attention. "Be careful, Virgil, there is a high chance that-" He struggled until Virgil was about to mount the first steps of the stairs to speak up, though was quickly interrupted by the side, head hung low. "I've got it, Lo. It's fine." He tried to assure, though, sure enough, the very next step he tried to take, the blanket tangled about his ankles, and he tripped, the bowl flying out of his hands and down the steps again, spilling its contents as it rolled, eventually coming to a stop at the foot of Logan's chair. "Virgil!" Logan gasped, springing up to grab cloths to clean up the mess before it soaked into the carpet too much. "What did I say!" He wasn't particularly irritated or angry at all, mostly just frustrated in the moment, as he pushed a small hand towel into the emo's stiff hands, and dropped to his knees to blot at the wet patch. But, after a few seconds of silence, when Vee hadn't joined him, Lo looked back up, and saw him looking absolutely panic-stricken, on the brink of tears, his lip quivering as he tried to fight it back. "'m sorry...." Virgil whispered, through numb lips, his shoulders almost to his ears with how tense he was. "'m so sri...." Logan knew it wasn't necessarily directed towards him, the smallest side's anxiety kicking in now, along with his apology complex, but he couldn't shake the knowledge that it was still his fault, for being so harsh. "Virge?" Logan tried softening his tone a little, standing again, to take the cloth back out of the side's hands, then gently enfolding them in between his own. "Virgil, I apologise for snapping at you." He tried to make amends, a strange guilty feeling fluttering deep in his chest, especially at his own helplessness to help fix the issue he had caused. "Can you tell me how to assist you?" He spoke quietly, carefully, like the slightest misstep would result in a bomb going off, but Vee's face just crumpled, as the tears spilled over, in big, ugly sobs. He curled tighter into himself, shaking his head, and eventually just sinking to the floor, sticking his thumb in his mouth to muffle his cries. Especially as he mumbled for "daddy", something that big him would never live down having mentioned, but this version entirely oblivious. He shook as the tears forced their way out, Logan finally getting the hint, as he snapped away the mess quickly, sure he would pay the price later, and knelt down in front of the little. "Oh, are you little right now?" He asked, a rather rhetorical question as the sight in front of him rather answered it, but he still wanted to give Virgil the chance to tell his stand-in caregiver himself. Logan got a slight, clumsy nod back, before Vee hid his face behind the blanket, feeling guilty with the last vestiges of his adult mindset, and he exhaled slightly, feeling slightly more in control of the situation now he knew where Vee was mentally. "That's okay, little one. Can you tell me how old you are?" It was a long shot, but, luckily, it paid off, as Vee held up a shaky finger, still crying round his thumb. "Wow, such a tiny little baby today, huh?" Lo tried to coo, remembering how Patton had told him that Virgil liked to be babied to feel secure in his headspace, even if he didn't fully understand how to seem sweet and caring the way Patton could. All the payback he got from that was another tiny, tearful nod, Vee seeming to lose his grip on the blanket a little, his shirt being revealed a bit more, and making itself obvious as one of his favorite regression tops, the little fried egg in one corner courtesy of Logan's own embroidery skills. Namely, a shirt he had been wearing since the previous morning. "Does the little baby want a change, into some clean and comfortable clothes?" Lo tried, unsure how to deal with Virgil being this small, since Pat usually took care of him at this age, but, apparently, was doing okay, since he hadn't screamed and run away yet. Though, that may have had something to do with the fact that, when Logan stood to start up the stairs following an affirmative hum, Virgil whined and made grabby hands from his position on the floor, belying he couldn't walk on his own. A quiet steadying breath later, Lo knelt back down to Vee, and, watching to make sure he was definitely okay with it, placed his hands on Virgil's hips, lifting slightly, no complaint following, just a slight teary sound to make him hurry up. He didn't need any encouragement after that, quickly swinging the baby onto his hip, and tucking the blanket around his shoulders so he wouldn't get too cold, since the day still held a slight chill. Virge leant his head comfortably on Logan's shoulder, rubbing all the tears and snot from his panic, onto his nice, clean shirt, but, holding himself back from cringing, Lo smiled a little. "You...like this?" He spoke haltingly, unsure, but Virge didn't respond, instead just closing his eyes, mostly reduced to sniffles now, looking okay enough. Sure he would know about it if he did anything wrong, Lo started slowly up the stairs again, checking back on the baby every few seconds, as if he might break if not under intense supervision. He was trying to walk as smoothly as he could, but the added weight on one side was giving him a decided sway once they hit the hall, though his precious cargo didn't seem to mind, it seeming to be lulling him into a doze, if his slowing breaths were anything to go by. He was barely holding on, the sniffles having subsided by the time they -finally- reached his door, and, very carefully flattening down pieces of Virgil's bed head, Logan tried humming. He had heard somewhere that the vibrations from humming helped to soothe babies, and deduced that it would probably be easier if Vee was as calm as possible for the next part. Very very carefully opening Virgil's door, Logan had to hold back from gasping, at the fully furmished nursery that faced him, proving Virgil had been little right from waking up, rather than slipping at Logan's snapping. The guilt seemed to swell in his chest as Lo realised what he had done, but, fighting it down, he tried his best to be present in the moment for the both of their benefits. Carefully peeking down as he felt movement against his side, he watched as the regressor hid his face in Lo's chest shyly, clearly feeling bashful at the proof he was just a baby. But he didn't mind, Virge's regression not exactly being a new thing by this point, and he was used to seeing baby paraphernalia spread all about the house. The nursery had just been a surprise. Gently heading to the changing table all set up in the corner, still extremely softly humming some old Russian lullaby or other, the CG tried his best to push into a gentler frame of mind, rocking very gently to distract from the separation that was about to occur. Though, as soon as he tried to lay Virge down, a whine broke through the quietness, and the small hand that had been resting gently against him then bunched tightly into Lo's polo, refusing to let go. "It is alright, Virgil, i am merely choosing some clothing for you, i am not venturing far. You can see me from the changer." Logan smiled slightly, trying to reason, but it didn't register, the baby still clinging on tight, too afraid of being left behind, whining softly. Giving up on the venture, Lo instead just nodded. "Very well, perhaps you can aid me." He spoke lowly, half to himself, as he one-handedly pulled open the closet, to reveal all the onesies and day suits that hung neatly. "Which do you prefer?" He couldn't bring himself to coo like Patton, instead speaking as if Virgil was merely a nonverbal adult, feeling a lot more comfortable that way. Especially as Vee didn't seem to be bothered by it, reaching hesitantly for a pastel purple daysuit with a small skirt sewn on, before pausing, and changing his decision to just a pair of plain navy footie pyjamas, the briefest flash of confidence having drained away, even as Logan tilted his head. "Would you like to wear the first one, Virgil?" He was confused, not minding what the regressor wanted to wear, since none of it seemed particularly gendered to him, but, getting no response, Lo picked the onesie out anyway, along with striped knee socks that matched, a distant memory of Pat saying they were cute coming to mind as he felt the soft material. He wanted to make Virgil happy, and not make him feel like he had to censor what he wanted, so, gently hanging the onesie on the side of the changer, Logan gently picked out one of Virgil's cuter diapers, feeling the padding the baby was already wearing, and knowing it was most likely beneficial to maintain said protection. Vee couldn't help but giggle, when he heard the crinkle, reaching out a hesitant hand to poke it so it made the sound again. Frankly, it was an adorable sight, and provided enough of a distraction for Logan to quickly lay him down on the printed plastic, letting him keep hold of it until he could find a rattle, or a pacifier to swap it out for. Making quick work of searching all the drawers, Lo pulled out all the other changing materials, proud of Patton for being so prepared, though there was no rattle to be found anywhere, eliminating that avenue from use. Instead, Lo grabbed the plain white baby pacifier from the rumpled sheets in the crib, wincing at the litany of health concerns that sprung to mind at how worn it looked, and gently teased Virgil's lips with the nipple until he opened up for it, effectively pushing his thumb out at the same time. That was a bonus, since Logan couldn't be exactly sure where the little boy's thumb had been, and, even if it was too small, the baby pacifier was infinitesimally better for him. He took to it easily, it lazily bobbing in and out, making Logan smile slightly, a strange fluttery feeling starting to manifest, almost like parental love, though he was sure he could deny it ever existed, should anyone take him up on it. It didn't take long to clean up and rediaper Virgil, even taking care of the rash that was starting to form, since he had been absolutely soaked, and clearly not in a good enough place to care for himself. Vee happily kicked his legs once he was clean again, cooing softly and reaching for imaginary things in the air, almost forgetting that he had ever been sad, or even that he had ever not been being cared for by Logan. But, the second Lo reached for the hem of his shirt, to pull it up and change him, he whined, wriggling away, as if he didn't want the shirt to be removed. Pausing, Logan pulled his hands away again, and tilted his head. "What is the issue, Virgil? Is this okay?" He asked softly, unsure as to what he had done wrong. The baby just whined, shaking his head gently, and holding on tight to his long sleeves that had fallen over his hands. "Would you like to keep your shirt? I have to change it, because it is not clean. But i will allow you to hold it, like a comfort blanket." Logan offered, trying to stop the tears that were starting to gather in Virgil's eyes again. He was out of his depth, he couldn't deny that, but, maybe, just maybe, he could exert some sort of control over it all, by making decisions for Virgil. By helping to support him. By being a parent Virgil hesitated, before nodding, seeming unsure about it, so Logan didn't bother with any of the usual talking or distractions, merely slipping the shirt off, and the onesie on in a few seconds, quickly placing the main body of the shirt back into Virgil's hand as he started to whimper. "Is that better?" Logan whispered, watching and smiling slghtly as the little emo rubbed the soft material against his cheek, glad that he had managed to find a way around the impending panic. It was, in a way, sort of strange that Virgil had so many stuffed animals and soft blankets dotted about the room, but yet he chose to hold a seemingly random shirt as comfort, though, Logan supposed, he was in no place to judge what did and didn't soothe the regressor's raging anxiety. It didn't take much longer to pop closed the bottom of the baby's onesie and slip the socks over his tiny feet. Though the little contented kicks that he was now showcasing made it a little more difficult to pull them up round his knees, even if Logan did eventually manage it, trying his hardest not to laugh at how absurdly domestic the situation was. Changing a baby, whilst the other parent was away at work? He could help but feel somewhat parental, especially as Virgil reached one-handedly and innocently for his tie, that had been hanging down, with a soft coo. "Would you like to touch it?" Logan offered, holding it a little bit up, as he scooped Virgil back off the changing mat into his arms, relishing the warm, sort of melty movement that he did to get even closer. Practically immediately, the pacifier was forgotten, tumbling out of the baby's mouth and onto the floor, in favor of the end of Logan's tie, clearly a comfortable fit to idly gum on. Strangely enough, he didn't mind the baby drool occasionally dripping onto his stomach through the shirt, thinking it almost endearing as he retrieved a different pacifier from the small basket in the corner, shoving it in his pocket for later, and headed back out of the room. Virgil didn't even seem to notice the change in surroundings, only slightly shifting to push closer to Lo's warm core as protest to the lack of blanket swaddle, all set to a whispered chorus of babble and coos. The warm, parental feeling swelling in his gut, Logan pretended not to notice the guilt building as he passed Roman's bedroom door, instead just focussing on rocking Virgil a tiny amount, with an characteristically genuine smile. "Should we try to get Roman out of his room to eat? What do you think?" He couldn't very well leave the creative side out of the pleasant moment, even if his company lasted just a few minutes. Hearing nothing but unintelligible burble from the regressor, the tie and shirt still held in iron grips, Logan nodded gently, raising a hand to knock. "That's what i thought too, good choice." He pretended to have gotten a response from the other side of the door, opening it just a crack so that his voice would carry better. "Roman. Myself and Virgil are inviting you to pass a short amount of time with us, in the communal area, until Patton returns from his task. Do not feel obliged, I just believed it would be pleasant for you to engage in family time." He tried to imply he was at no risk without mentioning Janus' name, but, as he only got a noncommittal grunt, he sighed slightly, and tacked on another comment. "Only myself and Virgil will be present, everybody else is absent from the house today." He couldn't say he didn't try, when Roman didn't even bother to respond at all this time. Instead, Lo pulled the door shut again, smiling gently and encouragingly to Virgil, who had lapsed to silence at some point during the one-sided conversation. "Come on, let's go get a drink, before we dehydrate, it is Roman's decision whether or not he wants to join us." He murmured, placing one hand on the side of Virgil's face to hide his view of the stairs as they descended, sure it would only result in another decline in his mood if he could see the site of the accident that had caused all this. Pausing halfway down, just for half a second, Logan wondered where all these new caring attitudes had manifested from, his brow furrowing slightly, before he shook it off, and continued along his way, giving Virgil a tiny little cheek rub with one finger, still taken aback by how innocent he seemed in this infantile headspace. "Does apple juice sound desirable?" He asked gently, the cold air from the refrigerator blasting in both their faces as he picked up one of the brightly colored sippy cups Patton had left for them, peeling off the Post-it that bore Virgil's name, and a little heart. Trying to hand the cup to the little as he stuck the post it on the next cup in line, Lo didn't quite expect it to hit his foot hard, followed by small whimpers. Virge, watching the now floored cup with teary eyes, wriggled trying to reach it, his thumb having made its way back into his mouth in place of the tie, almost masking his guilty look, as Logan gasped. Muffling his hiss of pain, he tried his hardest to assure the little that it was okay, that it wasn't his fault, accidents happen, as he stooped to pick up the -thankfully spillproof- Sippy. He was determined to do better than his previous mistake, cleaning off the spout with a hand, and offered it again, keeping hold of it himself this time, though Vee just whimpered and turned away from it. "Are...are you okay?" Logan whispered, shutting the fridge with a foot, carrying the drink and the baby back into the front room, and settling back down into his chair, concerned. All he got was a quick head shake, and a tearful burble, before Virgil buried his face in the CG's side, feeling like he needed to hide. "What was that? Baba?" Logan parroted, trying to make sense of it, not quite sure what the problem was, instead just carrying on stroking Virgil's cheek with a finger. Puzzling over the word, Logan started up his idle humming again, trying to coax the little out from his buried ball position, content enough to be patient. "Do you want something else to drink, other than apple juice?" He tried, only getting a muffled repetition of the same burble, a wet patch starting to spread on his shirt. "How about..." He trailed off, taking the sippy back into his hands, and staring at it for a second. "How about this?" He tried again, offering the drink to the little, who peeped out nervously. He hadn't done much, merely forced the sippy to change into a small bottle, but Virgil seemed much more content at the sight of it, burbling the same word over and over, though making no move to take it. "Is this a baba?" Logan wondered out loud, forever confused by the intricacies of baby talk, something that, by rights, should be simple to handle. Gently moving the now-bottle closer, Lo watched as Virgil, instead of reaching for it, merely opened his mouth a little, even obediently moving his thumb out of the way. "You want to be fed it?" Logan's voice was slightly incredulous, unable to believe Patton had never told him this stuff, sure it would have been helpful to know, but nodded all the same. "Alright, come here then." He mumbled, shifting to sit on the couch, to have more space, sliding Virgil half onto the cushions gently, his upper half propped up in Logan's arms, the CG gasping slightly as he slipped the bottle teat into the littles mouth and he instantly started suckling. He was like a baby through-and-through, and Logan was fascinated by it, watching with completely unveiled curiosity as Virgil's hands fisted and released idly as he drank, like he wanted to support the bottle himself, but couldn't get the coordination, along with the innocent look in his slightly-glazed over eyes, implying that the rhythm of the bottle was actually helping to soothe him. "That's it, well done." Logan praised, using the hem of his shirt to wipe away a slight dribble, smiling wide as Virgil seemed to glow at the praise. "I've got you, its okay." He continued, mostly parroting little phrases he had picked up, both from Patton and various parenting web sites he had researched, though Vee didn't seem to know the difference, snuggling deeper as the bottle drew to its last few drops, with a tiny yawn. "Are you feeling sleepy?" Logan didn't really want the moment to end, as he took the empty drink, swapping it for the pacifier from his pocket, putting it aside to clean later. Virge, rubbing his eyes even as they drooped, tried to deny it round the paci, but Lo just chuckled. "Sure, i believe you. How about you join me in reading my book for now?" He offered, knowing full well by this point that Virgil was not going to make it through one chapter, since he couldn't even read in this headspace. Nodding weakly cuz it got him out of nap time, Virgil felt Logan stretch to reach for his book, resting his head gently on the CG's chest once they were all settled back down. His pacifier bobbed gently between his lips as Lo opened the book, the strange smell making him sneeze tinily, prompting a soft chuckle from the reader, before the spine creaked, and pages rustled up above, Lo doing his best to find his place, and a comfortable position, without jostling too much. Once everything was ready, and he was sure Vee wouldn't be uncomfortable, Logan gently cleared his throat, licking his lips a little, and started to speak aloud. "Althalus reached up, took the burning torch from the bronze ring beside the door, and followed Ghend into the room, carefully pulling the door closed behind him. Then he held the torch aloft, and the two of them looked around the strong room for the first time." He read, slow, and careful, so that Virgil could keep up, even as the little's eyes drooped further. Shifting to fully lay down, Logan didn't miss the tiny squeak as the movement surprised the regressor, pulling him closer to his chest, and continuing to read, the peaceful atmosphere sort of pleasant, and certainly stress-free. Patton would be pleased. True to form, before Lo had even managed to get through half a chapter, Virgil's breaths were starting to even out a little more, his eyes having all but shut a few pages previously, as he cuddled deeper. Pausing for a few seconds, Logan stroked the little's hair out of his eyes, smiling gently at what he had managed to do, almost proud of himself for making Vee so happy and comfortable. Almost. Quickly scanning the page, he picked back up where he had left off, with a small bashful blush, not yet ready to accept that maybe he was a good CG, instead just murmuring the lines to the drifting baby laid on his chest. The stairs creaked gently as Roman crept down them, looking to all the world like a deer in headlights as he looked around, sure that a snake-man would jump out at him if he didn't frantically check every little corner and shadow, and, at a slight wave from Logan, he almost jumped out of his skin, clamping a hand over his mouth so he didn't scream, having noticed the sleepiness of the moment. Averting his gaze, he scuttled into the kitchen, head down, like a man on a mission, opening the fridge shakily, and humming a tiny 'hmph'. Carrying on reading, sure that none of them were at any immediate risk from serpentine ambushes, Logan didn't notice as Ro cast a quick, terrified look over to him, hand hovering over the remaining two sippies in the fridge door, before he grabbed one in a sudden rush of fear, shoving it deep into his jacket pocket. "Galbak’s scouts had found the tracks Althalus had carefully put down from the back of the hay barn to the trail that followed the river gorge. The main gate swung open, and Galbak led his men out in pursuit of the thieves." Logan kept reading, only just seeing out the corner of his eye as Roman tried to sneak back upstairs, nervous as a skittish rabbit, but paused, taken in by the mention of thieves, and instead folded himself up small as he could in the armchair, cradling something multicolored against his chest like he didn't want either of the other two to see it. One of Virgil's sippy cups, apparently, as Roman quickly tipped it up to get a drink, when he thought the logical side wasn't looking. He didn't really mind, the cups were useful for everyone, not just the regressor, but, as Roman rested his cheek in one hand, the position seemed awkward, his knee now employed with hiding the almost shameful cup. It wasn't until Logan finished the chapter and paused for a second to check on Virgil, now all the way asleep, that he could even ask Roman how he was. However, just as he bookmarked the page, and laid the book down to begin a conversation, Virgil stirred just enough to mumble a single word round his pacifier. "Mommy..." He hummed, then nuzzling deeper, seemingly slumbering, totally oblivious to what he had just said. Roman broke into hesitant giggles upon hearing that, moving his hand away, to speak, and if his thumb looked a little more wrinkled than it should, who was to take him up on it? "Hehe, Mother Logan." He commented, looking shyly away from the CG and flinching back, just in case it would cause a negative reaction. No such unpleasantness came, Logan instead cracking a small smile, hiding how fuzzy the nickname made him feel inside, and gently sat up, smoothly as he could, cradling Virgil. "Indeed, Roman. I suppose i am now his mother figure." He agreed, looking down curiously to the sleeping side, and stroking his head again. "But, for now, i need to put him down for his nap. Would you like to stay and listen to a little more of that book afterward? I noticed you seemed to like it?" Logan offered, quickly patching it over with a "Of course, dont feel obliged." As he mounted the first few stairs, not wanting to pressure Roman into doing anything he didn't want to do, especially since it was so rare for him to even venture downstairs anymore. "I could make some snacks, and we could....we could talk, if you dont want to read with me?" He wanted to give the creative side some decisions so he didn't feel so trapped in a corner, on top of giving time to hide the sippies, if he didn't want to tell Logan anything yet. He was greeted with a nod, and a small, but genuine smile. "Talking sounds good....Mom."

[sokumotanaka]

Last train home: An ode to Rwby

It’s over...it’s finally over.

Prepare for a long and tired final post.

Look, let me say this;

RWBY volume 6 is a mess and I think that's the most charitable thing I can say after spending several years of being invested in it’s crumbling world.

Maybe it was laziness, rushed or sheer incompetence that made this season crumble, so in my final review on rwby as a whole I may have to do some guess work at points; and after several wasted years, I’m not in a position from this point on to be charitable.

I gotta tell you, volume 6 tricked me, hell from what I seen it tricked alot of us, it started off good, we learned thing we should of learned volumes ago. But then I soon realized that this volume was; damage control. We learn of ozpin origins with salem only to not get to absorb it cause we soon learn through obvious reasons that maria was a silver eyed warrior and when ruby finally starts training, we meet one of jaune’s sisters, also pyrrha’s statue is there, but also neo is back, but so is adam and cinder, also mercury has no semblance, tyrian has a new tail-

see what I mean? before you could absorb one thing, two more pop up in its place and there’s such a lack in structure in the world, characters, their growth, development and their dimensions. The magic and power system that rwby has is just a mess that gets increasingly worse as it progresses, they take one step forward only to stumble several feet back and fall on their ass. And maybe one of the problem is I listen to writers commentary; to someone who doesn’t they won’t see as many problems as I do with the series, but when you actually listen to it you see the many problems it has with how this series is handled.

A reboot is at this point completely necessary and needed for this series to make even a semblance of sense. Semblance, Aura and Dust are so poorly handled and explained that they changed at several points to the point of being contrived.

Semblance was originally something you could use when your aura was completely depleted before requiring aura to use.

Except when it’s not but also when it can be, it changes at the drop of a hat, we see yang use her semblance with no aura in her vol 5 trailer, then sun in vol 4 loses his semblance when his aura is depleted.

despite miles changing it almost instantly afterwards...

When I started rwby I was optimistic it could be a great show probably not spectacular or amazing but great, and while it had it’s flaws and potholes at the time they were relatively small at first, but they just kept growing and more issues popped up and...christ if you like rwby and notice it’s flaws that’s fine, but I can’t say the same for people who outright ignore the flaws people critiquing the series bring up to get mad and preach about how only positive criticism can save the show.

Look as a person who started off with positive criticism I’m not saying it has no place, but you also can’t say critics be it negative from your perspective, is objectively bad or unneeded. Sometimes a firm but fair hand is needed.

Ruby’s issues are like a small flame building up, you can close your eyes and ignore the problem but sooner or later if something’s not done your house is gonna be completely on fire, and you don’t know how that may affect your surroundings, for all you know ignoring the issue caused the trees behind your house to catch fire, maybe one toppled over and landed on a neighboring house and now it’s spreading. The bottom line is weather you can get past the issue to find the things you like isn’t the problem, it’s ignoring them in the first place, if you aren’t willing to help something growth and change for the better with non rose tinted criticism then you’re not offering any help at all, you’re hindering it because you yourself refuse to change and that can be just as harmful if not worse to coddle something.

Rwby increasingly became more unhinged as a series, the flaws turned into overlapping problems, this went from a world that felt had love and care crafted into it to a plot and world with more holes than swiss cheese, which is why so many people felt disappointed and rightfully annoyed, could you sit there and tell me if I made a series and told you one thing yet showed you another only to tell you “yeah that’s not what I meant.” in post that you wouldn’t feel even the slightest bit of cheated, lied to or had your time wasted? If not do I have a camel to sell you among other things!

As a person who sat through so many lovely crafted media; I sat through paper mario and it’s whimsical tale, I watched avatar and fell in love with it’s amazing characters, world building and music, same goes for things like steven universe, final fantasy 6 (a game ironically about togetherness) ff9, the persona series, hunter x hunter, soul eater, gravity falls, Disney flicks, the dragon age series every super giant game, all these and more were handled with so much love and care and hold their structure throughout.

I.  LOVE. MEDIA.

I spend most of my time absorbed in their stories worlds and characters, laughing and crying and growing with them to the point I studied it, twice to get two separate degrees in it because I wanted to write at a time. So when I critique rwby, call out it’s flaws and so on, it’s not a personal attack on you if you like it, but I also can’t be satisfied with where the series has gone, not because it’s not ‘my’ take but because I enjoy narrative flow, I find interest in the characters if the plot isn’t too good and vise versa, media can touch on so many amazing things and I felt at a time...that miles and kerry could do well if they tried, if they applied themselves, before becoming such mean spirited, greedy and unwilling people, and this was long before I came into the picture, long before rwde no matter how much you disagree or what to place blame.

Cause trust me I seen rwby stans (fans unwilling to hear criticism out and will display many hypocritical and messed up tendencies over a cartoon)  not only ignore issues, tell people to kill themselves over a typed critique of a series they like, be irrational, sexist, racist or just plain stupid at times, you realize soon that the rwby tag is a cesspool of horrible people mixed in with a minuscule amount of fans willing to discuss the issues offer fixes and healthy non annoying chats on what they like and dislike.

Which confuses me as an individual cause I feel personally you can and should review rwby without threat of an anonymous person telling you to die over your opinion or one of the writers telling people to...enact physical violence on fans who don’t watch the supplemental material they hide, don’t promote to a casual audience and contradict and retcon on a constant basis. And sometimes it’s through a panel or a tweet, a casual rwby fan wouldn’t even catch unless they constantly follow the writers around or have someone dedicated enough to do so.

And all the stuff I mention and want isn’t impossible or asking too much honestly, I’d like the writers to be honest and fair to their fanbase, like anyone would, I’d like them to listen to actual critique and hire someone who can guide them so it doesn’t turn into one big “damage control” arc, The characters need more substance and need more screen time to grow as characters and fighters, when your fans excuse character growth with “Well animation is hard, not everything could be onscreen it could happen offscreen.” you have a problem, can you imagine ed just showing up with alphonse and it never being explained and I go “well animation is hard.” yeah that goes without saying but at the same time there are writers, creators and so on who get paid less, have smaller teams and sometimes just teams of two people to work hard on their craft, amazing teams with money, production and care like supergiant games get overlooked, so never EVER excuse jump cuts and lack of characterization, structure and development when better writers are out there busting their asses.

Do not be that guy.

*sigh* I been sitting here thinking how how I could end this, how after several years of a fast decline in quality, what’s something I could possibly leave this on? What can I say past this point? I been actually sitting in stunned silence trying to mull it over. I guess all I can say is, if you like rwby fair, fine, despite the major holes I discuss fixes with the series, I draw characters, try fixing the crumbling road of rwby trying hard to understand it, make no mistakes that when I critique it it’s not coming from a place of contempt for the series, but of disappointment in how far it’s fallen and how it could have been good if miles and kerry took the hand offered, it wouldn’t lead them down the most comfortable road, but they’d gain experience from it and could fix the series possibly for the better, and if you again like rwby, do not allow rose tinted goggles to blind you from the issues of the series, the ever growing problems with the series and the unwillingness for the writers to change and grow, do not allow more writers to turn into david cage, M Night Shyamalan, or stephenie meyer.

If you want the best for the rwby series and the rwby brand then you cannot accept mediocrity, you need to be vocal otherwise the writers won’t be incentivized to do better. And it doesn’t have to be straight up criticism, you can word it your way as long as it helps the writing grow, but at the point we’re at and how nice or not miles and kerry take current criticism rwby will continue to plummet and honestly that’s a disappointment.

To all fellow rwde and non rwde who have supported me thus far? Thank you, this has been a wild ride and while we possibly haven’t seen eye to eye I enjoyed and learn alot from watching you over the years, and now I think it’s finally time for the vet to retire and give the reins to new people, I received alot of kind messages from this and they touched my heart, take care rwby critics, it’s been real.

-A past fan of rwby

[ambivalentangst]

Lancelot Week: Past/Future

Yo for @lancelotweek day 5 I did an au I’ve had an idea for awhile about, based off Lotor as a quintessence baby in that one theory and Lance being his source of good quintessence. Enjoy!

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tw: minor emotional abuse

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Lotor had been in a quite literally dark place for a very, very long time. As long as he could remember, he’d been in somewhere cold and wet, in a way that clung to him in a way he didn’t like but had become resigned to. There was never light, but sometimes he could make out sound coming from what might’ve been Outside.

“Sickly-”

“Quintessence-”

“Paladin-”

It never made a lot of sense to Lotor. There were visions too, that came to him in flashes. Fields of pink flowers and a loving, caramel skinned face with russet markings.

   Lotor was alone in the dark for longer than he could remember, until there was a sudden brightness. That frightened him. His limbs felt heavy, always heavy, but slowly his world went from black to grey to blue, staring up at a cloudless sky while a warm zephyr caressed his cheek. His breaths came and went as they did, raspy in the hollow of his chest. Beneath him felt soft, and warm. What was going on? It took him a few times to get the energy to do it, but slowly he managed to turn his head one way, looking for the cause of the change of scenery. He only saw sand and surf as far as his eyes could see. He was trying to process what that was called, what that meant, when a freckled face bearing a gap toothed smile appeared above him.

   “Hey! Who’re you?” Lotor stared, and the face stared back. He couldn’t muster the energy to reply. He was always tired, and the darkness didn’t make him speak or move. How was he supposed to? The face frowned, and moved so that Lotor could see all of him. He was pretty sure it was a him, at least. The newcomer poked his cheek.

   “You don’t talk much, do you?” The boy sighed, sitting next to him. “Oh well. My mama says I can talk good enough for the whole family, so I’ll just do that here too. I’m Lance, by the way.” He stuck out his hand. Lotor knew he should shake, but all he was able to do was twitch his fingers a little. Lance sighed, dropping his hand.

   “Fine. Whatever. At least we’re at the beach, yeah?” He flopped down next to Lotor, who was beginning to notice a soft glow the boy next to him emitted. It was an electric blue, but dulled so that its shine wasn’t overpowering. “When all those weird creatures showed up I was afraid they’d hurt me, but I guess I’m okay now. The last thing I remember is that scary lady, but she said I could help.” Lance looked to Lotor, smiling again. “I want to help if I can.” He rambled on and on, while Lotor listened. He liked the chatter, as a distraction from the normal. Despite the fact that hours must have passed, the sky didn’t dim or change, and the tide did not roll in or out. The waves lapped at the shore and salty breezes ruffled their hair, but it was an oddly stagnant place. Unnatural. Lance’s glow grew stronger as well, and in one of his exaggerated gestures he happened to hit Lotor’s hand.

   The sickly boy gasped, his back arching while Lance fretted.

   “Ah! Are you okay? I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you!” His hand came down to press against his forehead as Lance checked his temperature, and Lotor felt energy explode from the touch. He gasped, white sparks exploding in his line of vision. What was Lance doing to him? He didn’t respond to the boy’s increasingly concerned pleas, trying to fight his way through the overwhelming feeling of energy running through his veins. By the time he came to again, Lance was crying and shaking him, which felt like a shock every time he touched him.    Lotor panted, his breath being ripped from him harshly.

   “You-” he began, trying to figure out what to say. “What did you do?” Lotor felt electrified, like every single nerve in his body was a livewire. Lance sniffed, tears still rolling steadily down his cheeks.

   “I-I don’t know,” he admitted. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he whimpered. Lotor reached up. He didn’t know where the energy had come from, but as he touched Lance’s cheek he felt that same current of life that touched him in a vibrant and explosive way he couldn’t ignore. Lance let him, his blue seeping into Lotor’s fingertips.

   “Lance.” He said his name softly, reverently. The dark had never provided anything like what he gave him. Lotor had been so motionless and stuck for so long, he didn’t know what to do. Lance gripped his hand tightly. “What are you?” Lance blinked at him curiously, helping Lotor with a hand placed on his back as he sat up.

   “I’m human. You know, from Earth?” Lotor stared at him, at the blue of his eyes that were now much easier to see. “Who’re you?” Lance was his size, small and brown where his skin was a soft purple and his hair a shock of white. He was perfect.

   “I’m Lotor.” Lance smiled, and took his hand.

   “It’s really nice to meet you, Lotor.”

   Lotor stayed with Lance for a long time. Not as long as he stayed in the dark, but long enough. They were always on the same beach, somehow alive and dead at the same time while remaining perfectly isolated. Lance claimed it was his home, but anything except beach had been erased. Lotor still listened when he told him about it, though. He loved how fiercely affectionate he was with it. The day Lance suddenly fell short in his descriptions of his home was not good. He was forgetting, and that realization sent into him a panic. How could he forget?

   Lotor had nothing of substance to forget.

   He told Lance of the dark, but he knew nothing about it. He always said the last thing he remembered was the woman who had frightened him, and then he was on the beach with Lotor. They grew to be friends, the best of friends. There was nothing Lance did not know of Lotor and nothing Lotor did not know of Lance. They grew together where Lotor had not grown before in the dark, shaped one another like no other. Where there was Lance and his electric touch, there was Lotor. It was just how they worked. They speculated about Outside sometimes, but they were largely content with one another. It was simple that way, until it wasn’t.

   Lance had always lit something in Lotor aflame, helping him to blossom as he couldn’t otherwise. His gentle hands with their soft glow kept him safe and healthy. They’d noticed sometimes that when Lance touched him too much he felt ill, felt like Lotor had that first day they’d met, so they had to be careful. Still, they were both happy and healthy the day Lotor left. They’d been lying together as they often did, Lance with his head on Lotor’s legs that had grown long and muscular from runs on the beach and swimming in the ocean that held no life within its depths. Lance had laughed, and Lotor remembered the way he smiled. He loved Lance’s smile, and the crackle of energy from where their skin touched. He had reached to card his fingers through his hair, when he found his had passing through the silky chestnut strands he knew as well as everything else about Lance. That made both of them pause.

   “Lotor?” Lance had asked, a trace of fear on the outskirts of his tone. The taller of the two reached again, and again he could not touch him. Lance sat up, his brow knitting together in confusion. He reached to touch his companion, but he could not get it to work either. Lotor found the world around them growing dark, which scared him. What was going on? The dark had never returned, not with Lance present. The sand turned ashy beneath their feet.

   “Lance, what’s going on?” he asked, but when he looked to him he found only air. Lotor felt fear, absolute and primal seize his heart. Where was Lance?

   “Lance!” he shouted, whirling violently. Where had he gone? They could not hide from each other, not here. He always knew where he was. Why would they want to hide from one another, and be separated? Nothing. He was gone, and Lotor felt himself descending back into the darkness he’d faced years ago.

   It was with a gasp that he sat up on a cool table he’d been placed on, with a cry of his companion’s name. The beach was gone, and it had been replaced with something completely foreign to Lotor. A dark room, dimly lit with magenta light. His eyes scanned it desperately, until they landed on a robed figure with long, white hair standing near.

   “Who are you? Where is Lance?” he demanded to know, only to find the figure coming closer, and then he was being pressed into their chest.

   “My son, you have returned to us,” a raspy voice exclaimed. No, something within Lotor screamed. This was wrong. Still, the figure did not let go, and Lotor felt nothing but horror as a clawed hand pulled him close.

   That voice was not truly his mother, as he was quick to learn. His mother had been Honerva. This was Haggar, who decided she hated him just as quickly as she declared her love. She would not tell him anything, why he knew nothing and why so many tutors and lessons were shoved down his throat. He could not ask her about Lance, his companion that was his only saving grace in the terror that consumed him in his new environment. Nothing made sense, not without a tanned hand gripping his with volts of affection arcing across his skin and the steady rhythm of waves at their front. It was entirely an accident when he found the one he so desperately sought. He’d been exploring in his increasingly scarce free time, and had stumbled across a dark room, only lit by a familiar blue glow with a source Lotor couldn’t discern easily. He took several steps forward, only to be brought up short as he stared at the figure surrounded in luminescent liquid that shone blue. Lance’s blue, and within the concoction was his companion. He placed a hand upon the glass, staring at the lithe lines of the one person Lotor knew and loved with all of his heart.

   “Lance,” he whispered, just as in awe as he had been that first day they’d met. He felt sick. Why was he trapped in there? Why was he hidden away from the world when he had so much to give? He had to get him out, he had to save him-

   A hand on his shoulder had him drawing back to meet his mother’s eyes.

   “Haggar,” he whispered. “Why is Lance here? What are you doing to him? You have to let him go and-” her grip tightened, and she pulled Lotor away from the case.

   “No. The blue paladin will stay as he is,” she declared, her voice ringing with a hateful finality. Lotor stared, his eyes narrowing.

   “He will not. You will let him go,” he demanded, a hand going to the sword he had at his side. Haggar’s lip curled into a sneer.

   “You know nothing, son,” she spat, like the title was an insult. “It is because of me and what I’ve done with him that you are even as you are. You do not usurp my command.” Lotor gave pause at that, staring at the woman he might’ve once called mother.

   “What?” he asked, his breath leaving him as though he’d been punched.

   “Oh yes,” she crowed. “You were a sickly child Lotor. It is only because of my research that you are alive, by keeping you exposed to quintessence. It still wasn’t enough. Wild, unrefined, it wasn’t sufficient. That’s why I hunted down the paladin.” Lotor’s lessons flashed through his head, of the legend of Voltron and the paladins. The world spun, but Haggar pressed ruthlessly on.

   “I put you both in the same state, made it so you could leech off of him and his blue quintessence and survive. It went better than I ever could’ve hoped for. You flourished, Lotor, and now the Galra have their prince. Now the paladin will remain, safely locked away where he cannot be used against us. You owe everything to me.” She stared at him, expecting him to fall apart under the weight of the information. However, Lotor did not falter. Instead his eyes hardened, sharpened with focus, and he strode away. So be it. What used to be a mother had set their paths in stone, but Lotor would change the future. He would save Lance, and keep him from ever being used again.

[vermiculus-incipiens]

OOC Information:

What’s your name? Abby

Preferred pronouns: She/Her

Timezone: EST at the moment

IC Information:

Character Name: Remus John Lupin

What’s a hobby or pastime that your character enjoys? Remus’ favorite hobby isn’t exceedingly unique or creative, but it has remained a constant in his life for as long as he can remember. It began at a young age; his mother would read to him in the days following a full moon, and the words would be the only thing that could get him to fall asleep. This quiet little routine shifted into a passion and an outlet for the questions that he had about the world and everything that lay outside of his window. In books, he could be whoever he wanted to be; yesterday he was a pirate looking for buried treasure, today he’s in a jungle on an island with the Wild Things. This hobby has remained with him throughout his time at school, shifting from an escape to something that he could use to find the answers for all of the questions he had about the magical world and the war around him. Now when he finds himself overwhelmed, he finds comfort in sourcing an old text and taking notes. He isn’t picky- he’ll read anything from epic fantasies to spell-books and old biographies of witches and wizards long dead.

Do you have any preferred ships or anti-ships?: I prefer to play Remus as bisexual, and am open in regards to potential ships! Remus has an extremely complicated and difficult relationship with the concept of romance and sex, and is closeted with his preferences and usually avoids the topic whenever possible, even with those closest to him. Due to the canon information that we have about Remus’ insecurities and hesitation in his involvement with Tonks in the future, I imagine that he hasn’t had many healthy, happy relationships in the past. For this reason, I would be against most traditional relationships for Remus without extensive development beforehand, as I imagine anything less would be out of character for him. I would be interested in pursuing other types of potentially less-healthy relationships that would work alongside his canon with the right partner if they were interested. Personally, I am partial to wolfstar if there is chemistry with the other writer and plenty of development prior to this!

What do you think your character’s Boggart would be? If their greatest fear isn’t something that could easily take a solid form, what is it? Why? If Remus had ever come across a boggart as a child, it would have assumed the shape of the large, pale orb that hung in the sky, full once a month and all-powerful over his helpless form. He knew he could cope with the loneliness and pain that was associated with the illness; he could scarcely remember any different. It was the loss of control that scared him most. As he grew and entered Hogwarts, he found that it was possible not only for him to care for others so strongly, but for them to also in turn care for him, and this original fear quickly grew to be challenged and overwhelmed by an even greater one. It was during his fifth year, after his three friends transformed in front of him, explaining that they had become illegal animagi in order to keep him company during the grueling full moon nights, that he was shown something completely different. If he were to stumble across a boggart now, it would feature a flashing array of James, Peter, and Sirius, each lying limp and cold at his feet, blood sticky and wet on his hands as he tried to wake their still forms, the people he feared he could never live without torn from him at last. It would only be after his worst fears came to light on a dark Halloween night that this boggart would shift once again. From this point on, his boggart would remain a milky-white orb, high in the sky. It served as a reminder to never let others that close again. The pain that can come as a result of that loss is far worse than anything he could possibly experienced physically.

What’s your character’s biggest pet peeve? Growing up solitary and isolated from the majority of the wizarding and muggle community alike, Remus was accustomed to having his own space. There was a certain comfort in a closed door and an empty room. This was quickly challenged when he started school at Hogwarts, the transition harsh and strange for the boy who was so used to keeping to himself. While he has grown to care for and appreciate certain elements of companionship and closeness, Remus is still uncomfortable with physical affection of any kind. Outside of his closest friends who have managed to break down those barriers, he freezes up around outwardly touchy-feely acquaintances who greet him with a warm embrace or happen to sit too closely.

What would you consider to be an eccentricity of your character? Remus’ anxiety isn’t exactly an eccentricity of his character, but the way that he expresses this anxiety has resulted in increasingly odd behavior over the years. At school this was less noticeable, apparent only in the repetitive way he would tap a pencil in class or pull at loose threads of his sleeve. He would often skip meals to walk the halls of the castle, or occupy himself with extra work in the middle of the night on the day before the full moon to ease his mind. As he’s gotten older, these eccentricities show themselves more clearly in various obsessive compulsive behaviors. He’ll find himself walking down the street in the middle of the night to keep himself moving on sleepless nights, working at odd hours and falling asleep over papers for work instead. There is an irritability and an edge to his motions whenever he is still, shaking his leg or biting down on the skin at his lip.

What is/was your character’s favorite subject in school? Why? Remus’ appreciation of his education combined with his desire to prepare himself for his uncertain future led the boy to practice diligently in all of his courses, though he particularly favored Defense Against the Dark Arts, a subject that his father had once held a career in. At first he had pushed himself to do well in this course in an effort to impress his father, but this quickly grew into an individual passion when he discovered the satisfaction in learning how to protect others and his interest in learning about various creatures. In addition to this class, Remus enjoyed the upper level Alchemy and Arithmancy electives he was able to study in his final years of school.

What time of day is your character’s favorite? What time of year? Remus’ favorite time of day is dawn. Watching the sun rise is a quiet, peaceful time for the werewolf. Lately, he finds himself enjoying them more often, sitting on the edge of the fire escape of his flat as the dawn breaks outside. As the sun climbs in the sky, he’ll sit with a cup of tea and smoke a few cigarettes, enjoying the way the city sounds before it has woken up. His favorite season has always been fall, the weather cool enough that it’s no longer uncomfortable to wear long sleeves and sweaters but the nights still not long enough to be noticeably more painful. It’s a season that reminds him of change, new beginnings, and a time when he would return to Hogwarts each year and reunite with his friends.

What’s your character’s Patronus? If they can’t conjure one, what would it be if they could? Why? When Remus casts a full, corporeal patronus, it takes the shape of a wolf. Not a werewolf, however, despite what some (including himself, for a time) might initially assume. It instead appears as an ordinary wolf, which has been known to be family-oriented and non-aggressive. Those with the patronus of a wolf have had a lot happen to them throughout their lives, and have a tendency to mask over their emotions as a result. However, with a measure of trust and understanding, they also have the ability to become the most loyal of friends, attaching themselves entirely to a small few, or pack. Despite the wolf’s positive symbols, Remus is averse to anything that reminds himself of the wolf and avoids creating any connection to his condition in the presence of others. As a result, he often purposefully casts a non-corporeal patronus to prevent any unnecessary relation between the two.

What is your character’s biggest vice (bad habit or immoral craving)? Smoking: When Remus first started smoking as a teenager, it was just something that he had picked up from the other Gryffindor boys in an effort to fit in. However, he quickly found himself attached to the sensation, finding temporary relief and relaxation in the bad habit. Throughout the years this has switched from a casual, social habit to something that he gravitates towards whenever he’s stressed, anxious, or needs to occupy his mind. He discovered marijuana shortly after he had started smoking in school, finding that it’s one of the few things that could ease his mind in the days before a full moon or afterwards, when the pain is difficult to push through. On evenings after a stressful mission, or when he can’t manage to sleep and he’s run out of work to keep himself busy, it’s his favorite way to shut out the rest of the world and escape. Self-Harm: Remus had always loved distractions. When Remus first started to self-harm in school, he didn’t realize what it was that he was doing. It was something that began as a thoughtless way to release some of the anxiety that he held inside as he scratched at healing scabs and old scars. However, it quickly became easy to dissociate from the action, using the physical pain as a distraction from his emotions. He didn’t view it as hurting himself, but instead saw it as a way to gain control over the wolf or any other negative thought of temptation that he felt. During the most difficult of his anxiety attacks, the pain is something that he uses to ground himself and find stability. Despite the habit growing in scale and intensity as the war has progressed, this has been easy to conceal. He has always been careful to hide his scars with long sleeves and pants, now even in the presence of his closest friends to avoid the potential for any unwanted attention or questions.

Is your character an introvert or extrovert? How well do they handle social situations? Remus has always been an introvert, preferring the company of a few of his closest friends to large crowds of strangers. However, this was something that he frequently had to face during his time at Hogwarts. From the bustling sounds of meal times in the great hall to the crowds of students lounging together in the common room, it was nearly impossible to avoid certain social situations. This became even more apparent as he grew closer to his roommates, who seemed to thrive in the buzz of it all, their large personalities attracting more attention than the werewolf was accustomed to. He quickly learned to disguise his unease with a carefully placed smile, wry humor, and eager to please attitude, content to press through social situations as long as his closest friends were nearby, positioned strategically for a hasty escape if necessary. However as the war continues, this has been increasingly difficult to feign. He isn’t as patient as he used to be, and would choose an intimate night in with friends over a large party any day.

What is your character’s diet like? What’s his or her favorite food? Remus diet is anything but stable. He doesn’t have the patience or level of respect and care for his body to indulge in healthy, thoughtfully planned meals, and instead trades this for cost-effective efficiency instead. After a long day of work, he’ll often find himself eating whatever he can find left over in the refrigerator. If he’s feeling more selective, he might heat up a can of beans over a slice of toast, not particularly minding what it tastes like as long as it’s warm and relieves the frustrating pang of hunger that distracts him from whatever he needs to be getting done. This is something that frequently bothers his friends, who take any opportunity they have together to share meals, or make excuses to drop by and leave food at his apartment that they know he likes. The only time that Remus is particular about his food is when he’s high and his appetite increases. When his friends are around, they’ll usually resort to getting takeout from one of the shops down the street. Remus’ favorite is a hole-in-the-wall Indian restaurant that he and Sirius discovered in the middle of the night on their way back home from a muggle rock concert.

How do you think your character’s psychological issues have manifested and changed your character up to this point? Remus has always coped with his anxiety and emotions by pushing them down and holding them inside, believing for a long time that as long as they didn’t surface that he was fine. Without a healthy way to channel this negative energy, he often finds himself overwhelmed and exhausted from the pressure of all of these emotions, the stress manifesting itself in physical symptoms such as insomnia and chronic headaches. For the majority of his life, Remus has also likely suffered from depression, something that has greatly impacted the way he views both his relationship with others and himself. This was initially something that he was able to cope with and control when he was younger, but the added stress and pressure of the Order has led to him becoming increasingly more cynical, agitated, and negative as the war has progressed. This is something that has started to impact his closest relationships, and as a result he has begun to distance himself. The part of the war that he struggles with most is the fear of something happening to his friends when they’re out of his sight. At first it was little more than a hesitant, quiet fear slipping into his thoughts at the beginning of the war. However, after having to stand by and watch as this fear slowly became reality, it now feels more like an overwhelming current, the crippling sensation threatening to drown the wizard. He has had to watch his friends return bloody and broken on several occasions before, so it isn’t a fear without reason. In the recent months, it has been increasingly difficult for the werewolf to justify all of the pain and heartache that he has had to witness. Even though he would never admit it, he secretly longs to escape with all of them and move somewhere far away from it all. On nights when he knows that his friends are out on missions or performing various tasks for the Order, Remus is often unable to sleep, his anxiety keeping him up as his mind runs over all of the worst possible scenarios. Instead, he resorts to distractions to drown out these fears;cigarettes, drugs, and self-harm. He doesn’t care how dangerous they are as long as they give him a few precious moments of release from the day’s pain.

Give us a headcanon for your character. Anything is acceptable. Remus very rarely gets angry, something that both infuriates and perplexes those closest to him. It isn’t that he didn’t get annoyed, disappointed, or find things that bothered him, but to truly see him angry and outside of his regular, composed facade would be a rare, almost impossible feat. He has a mild mannered, calm way of acting, and most assume that this behavior is just a part of his personality. While this may be partially true, Remus wasn’t always so controlled. As a young boy, especially during the first year after he was bitten, tantrums and outbursts of emotion were very common for him, as he didn’t know how to deal with the pain and suffering that his condition had led him to have to deal with at such a tender age. It was only after he had seen the damage that showing his emotions could have on his parents, the only ones that he was close to at the time, that he began to learn how to carefully conceal all traces of the unhinged wolf that lingered so close by to his heart. At first, he began this to protect those he cared about, but after a while it became an obsession; a necessary habit. He strove to be everything that the wolf was not, and composed himself in just the right manner to ensure that he would be associated with the wicked beast as little as possible. Now, he hardly even realizes that he’s doing it anymore; to remain invariably level-headed is second-nature. Subconsciously, he fears that any show of anger, suffering, or madness would prove to those closest to him that he is nothing more than a dark, wild, and unhinged creature, unworthy of their attention and companionship. He had promised himself that he would never grow attached or too close to others in an effort to protect himself from this, but now that the inevitable has happened, he fears that if they were ever to change their minds about him and cast him aside and leave him now, he would break entirely, as he relies on their constant normality and tendency to treat him as a person to keep himself sane amidst the repressed madness.